


Touch Me Like I'm Glass

by Idea Turnstile (jatty)



Series: Shattered [1]
Category: Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/Idea%20Turnstile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his kidnapper's house, Vic's is the only gentle touch Kellin knows. He wants to run, but his efforts are thwarted every time he tries--and every time he fails, it's Vic who pays the price. </p><p>Vic--in turn--is tired of the beatings, tired of watching Kellin's face crumple with despair every time their captor turns on him in rage. He'd give anything to keep Kellin safe, but he just isn't strong enough to run... He's afraid. So much could go wrong if they're caught.</p><p>But they have to try. If they don't, one (if not both) of them will be dead by winter. Kellin is certain he can escape on his own, but he can't leave Vic behind to suffer. He loves him too much. He loves him more than anything...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was hell in _his_ house. Complete and utter hell. There were no bars on the windows or external locks sealing the doors from both the outside and in. Anyone who was in the small, five-room house could easily open any door or window and leave—anyone who wasn’t Vic. 

Vic knew better than to touch the window latches or go anywhere near the front door, the _only_ door. Even if there were no bars on the windows or locks keeping him trapped, he was still unable to muster the courage to flee. Outside in the fenced in yard was a vicious dog which barked and growled fiercely at anything which drew too near to the rural property. 

No matter what tortures went on inside, Vic still valued his life too much to risk being ripped limb from limb by massive, brown and white dog. He’d been beaten, he’d been starved, he’d been bound and gagged, and he’d been raped—but even so he couldn’t bring himself to run. 

For the first few months after he’d been taken, his captor had kept him locked down in the cellar. It was dark, filthy space full of insects and cobwebs. The compacted dirt floor left him with no warmth when he was made to lay on it, and the stone walls showed him no mercy when he was pressed again them. 

Vic remembered vividly how hard he tried to escape back then. He pounded and kicked at the metal storm cellar doors again and again, praying someone would hear him over the monstrous growling of the dog which scratched and slammed against the door from the other side. 

Kept in the dark, kept in the cold, Vic had even dared an attempt at tunneling through the floor with only a broken plank of wood to use as a shovel. When the hole got to be too deep, that was when the man finally brought him inside. 

He’d been taken off the street at the height of the summer. There was snow on the ground when he was pulled by his arm up out of the cellar and dragged round the front of the house. By that point he was too weak to resist as the man took him inside. 

He let the man scrub him raw in the bath tub and stared at his reflection in the mirror the whole time. He looked like a corpse with blackened eyes, dull hair and even duller skin. He’d spent another few weeks bound to the bed during every hour his kidnapped was gone or asleep, then the man given him free reign to roam the cramped, cluttered house—even in his absence. 

By that point he’d lost all his fight. Fear of the dog was enough of an excuse for Vic to still feel sane for staying in the house. He’d been given a list of tasks to complete before his keeper came home and an even longer list of punishments he would receive if he failed to do them. 

The tasks gave him something to pass the time which had seemed so endless when he’d been locked in the cellar—not knowing whether it was day or night. At least in the house he could see daylight. At least in the house he could see when the man was coming for him. 

Four years—or maybe it was five—had passed since he’d been grabbed out of a bar he wasn’t old enough to be in. He’d gotten a fake ID off of his brother’s friend and had gone out drinking after catching his girlfriend giving some other dick from their high school a handjob. Heartbroken and devastated, he’d gone out to drink his sorrow with the other lonely people at the bar just outside of town.

That was where _he_ found him. He was sat at the bar drinking rum and Coke, and had been far too excited to strike up a conversation with Vic who wanted left alone. He’d gone to the bar to be around other people, to keep from doing something stupid like he would have if he’d stayed home, but he’d wanted _left alone._

It was the biggest mistake of his life and it played over and over in his head nearly every time he was forced to make love to Eddie. 

At the start, the sex had been brutal. There had been bruising and tearing and blood. He’d screamed until his voice was wrecked and then some. He’d been beaten into submission countless times before he learned that it was easier to give in to Eddie’s will that to fight it. He would always, _always_ lose if he fought, but if he obeyed Eddie’s every whim, the pain would be less. 

In four years, Eddie had destroyed whoever Vic had been before. His fight—his spark—had all been snuffed out by the repeated acts of violence. He had no sense of purpose, no illusion of self-worth beyond being “the best lay” Eddie had ever had. His only value came from the very man who had stripped him of his life.

His only happiness could come from the man who had destroyed every dream he’d ever had.

Vic was going to be a musician someday, he’d told himself all his life—from the time he’d been a small child. He was going to be somebody. 

Now, as he lay under Eddie—hugging the man’s broad shoulders out of necessity as he was fucked into the mattress—Vic’s voice was used only for moaning and screaming. He was nobody, and no one would _ever_ hear him sing again. Especially not Eddie.

The searing pain Vic had come accustomed to feeling nearly every day faded into a dull ache as Eddie forced himself in and out of his captive’s body. Vic held Eddie tight with his arms—knowing that signs of affection kept the other man calm and benevolent—but kept his legs splayed as wide as they could go in hopes that the pain would be less. His moans were fake, but Eddie demanded them. His mind was elsewhere as he forced noise after noise past his lips.

His dream had been to be a singer who could reach people and help them through his lyrics, but now his voice was used only for this—to give pleasure to one man who delighted only in the sounds of pain.

It ended sooner than Vic had anticipated. He was still so far gone in his head—in his memories—that he was still faking cries and moans even after Eddie had stopped moving. That earned him a slap across the mouth, effectively silencing him before he was flipped over onto his face. 

Vic trembled as he felt Eddie’s nails rake down his bared back, stopping at the base of his hips.

“Am I that boring?” Eddie asked before delivering a powerful smack to Vic’s ass. 

“No, Sir,” Vic said, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. 

“Really? It sure sounds like it.” Eddie smacked him again, then grabbed him by his right shoulder and flipped him over onto his back again. “Guess I’ll have to do something to keep your interest then, won’t I?”

“No, Sir,” Vic whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Eddie’s hand wrap around his throat. He took in a shaking breath, then found his air supply cut off as Eddie’s fingers tightened. He squirmed helplessly, knowing better than to claw at Eddie’s hand or face, then began thrashing when his brain screamed for oxygen. 

Eddie laughed at him and squeezed even tighter until Vic _did_ seize his wrist—instinct taking over as he panicked. Eddie just kept cackling as Vic’s vision turned white and tears rushed down his face. 

He was going to kill him. Tonight was the night Eddie was finally going to end his pathetic, worthless life.

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic knew something was wrong when he woke up handcuffed to the bed. He was only bound when Eddie had company and that set off alarm bells in Vic’s head. His eyes went wide and he tugged at the metal clasped around his wrist. 

“Quiet!” Eddie barked from the other room.

Vic bit back his cry of fear and stopped pulling at his bindings, not wanting a whipping to be added to whatever torture lay in store for him in the next room. 

“I said be quiet!” Eddie boomed again. 

Vic whimpered and pressed himself harder into the worn mattress. He hadn’t thought himself to be that loud when the cuffs rattled against the metal headboard. 

Then it came to his attention that Eddie wasn’t screaming at him—there was another person in the house whose shrill cries had mixed in with the screeching of metal on metal. Accompanying the cries and Eddie’s angry shouts were intermittent slaps and bangs, a scuffle, then the noise of someone collapsing in the other room—banging into a piece of furniture which gave a loud grunt as it scratched across the hardwood flooring. 

Vic stared through the dark at the cracked bedroom doorway, staring at the yellow beam of light coming from the living room. He could see a shadow being cast across the door every now and then as the fight raged on. 

Eddie’s deep voice overpowered the desperate cries and pleas of his new victim as the scuffle drew closer and closer to the bedroom. Vic had only enough time to scoot to the edge of the bed before the fight burst into the room where he lay trapped. 

Eddie came in with his back to Vic, his arms wrapped around the waist and neck of a violently resisting person half his size. Whether the being was male or female, Vic honestly couldn’t tell. All he knew was Eddie had seized someone else and someone new had entered into this, his hell. 

“No!—No! Let go of me! Let _go!_ Let _go!”_ The person screamed in a voice so shrill it caused Vic’s ears to ring. Whoever it was dressed in tight jeans and had long hair—dark hair that shined in the yellow glow. 

Eddie grunted and growled as he pulled the resisting prisoner toward the bed—sometimes leaning back in a way that lifted his captive’s feet from the floor. He was only able to stagger forward a few steps before he had to set the screaming person down on its feet again, but all that fighting was in vain. 

The new victim didn’t stand a chance. As soon as its body was thrown onto the bed, its bony hips and back colliding with Vic’s upper thighs and abdomen, all hope was lost. 

Vic gave a fearful and pained squeak when the body hit him, but Eddie paid no mind to him as he lunged for the bed—pouncing on his prey. He fisted a hand in that long, dark hair and forced the person face down into the pillows as he climbed over top them. Eddie sat on his captive’s thighs, one knee on either side of their leg, and relished in smothering the cries with the pillow. 

Even with the body so close, Vic still couldn’t discern a gender. All he could make out were tight, dark jeans and a reddish, slightly baggy t-shirt. He trembled and shook as he watched the person thrash and scream. Every now and again one of their hands would collide with Vic’s chest and arms, and they would pound against Vic’s bones as hard as if they believed he were Eddie.

Eddie, however, paid no mind to Vic. His attention was wholly focused on his new prisoner who—either out of exhaustion or lack of air—fought less and less until they laid face down and screamed, voice muffled by Eddie’s dirty pillow. 

Eddie fisted his left hand in the victim’s hair and kept them pinned by their skull as his right hand reached around and slide between the person’s hips and the bed. Their crying became more frantic when Eddie lifted himself off their body in order to yank their hips upward—getting them into position so he could unbutton their pants. To Eddie’s chagrin, they wore a belt which proved a challenge to unfasten when they jerked their hips from side to side to avoid him. 

Vic closed his eyes and tried to scoot even closer to the edge of the bed—though cautious not to fall off the side. He was rendered as helpless as the prisoner beside him, forced to listen—forced to watch—as the pitiful being’s jeans were yanked down his hips.

His…

Eddie had captured another boy. 

The cries died off after one last, _loud_ and piercing scream, fading instead into labored breaths taken through the pillow as he was smothered. He was trying hard to turn his face in order to get air, but Eddie wouldn’t let him. His goal was to smother the fight out of his captive so he would have a chance to grab his supplies from the end table drawer. 

The boy lay panting under Eddie, frantic and rapid breaths filling the air—becoming more and more choked with each passing second. Vic let out a sob as he listened, filled to the brim with fear and pity. He knew how that felt. He, more than anyone, knew how this poor, nameless boy was feeling. 

He was frightened, he was in shock. Half of his mind will have begun fueling him into panic and desperation—telling him he had a chance to get free—and then the other half would be succumbing to survival instincts and helplessness. He wasn’t getting free. The only hope he had was to do as Eddie commanded—abandon all pride and masculinity and fall into submission to a stronger man. 

“Put your hands by your head,” Eddie commanded, shouting over the noise of the creaking mattress, the boy’s frenzied panting, and Vic’s low sobs. Though Vic’s eyes were tightly closed, he imagined the boy must’ve obeyed.

The bed creaked, the end table drawer slid open, and the boy gasped shortly after the clinking of metal filled the room. Eddie allowed him a breath of air only after he’d handcuffed both of the boy’s wrists to the headboard. 

“Don’t!” The boy cried, desperation overwhelming his fight. “Please! Please, don’t do this! Stop! _Stop!”_

Vic slowly opened his eyes and grimaced through his tears as he watched Eddie run his hands along his new captive’s sides, pushing up his shirt until his entire back was exposed and the fabric of the t-shirt was draped over the boy’s head. He had the boy bared as much as could without removing his shoes in order to take off his jeans and without cutting off his shirt. 

Eddie listened to the screams and pleas, getting drunk off of them before reaching into the end table drawer again to retrieve his bottle of lubricant. 

Vic closed his eyes again and willed himself away to a different place. A better, safer place. It had gotten so easy for him to disconnect when he was violated, but this time it proved impossible. No matter what he tried, there was no escaping the pained voice of Eddie’s new boy. That shrill, beautiful tone was haunting him to his core.

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin screamed as the searing pain tore through him. Every bit of him hurt from the struggle, but nothing he’d endured on this awful night could have prepared him for _this_ agony. He’d felt the other man’s length pressing at his opening and steeled himself against it in a childish belief that he would be able to make himself impenetrable. All he’d succeeded in doing was making it hurt worse as the man rutted against him—pressing in then pulling out again as quickly. Over and over it happened until he managed to fit more than just the tip of his length inside. 

White hot pain radiated trough him and he felt as if he’d been lit on fire. Sweat dripped down his back and tears mixed with spit in the pillow he was forced to sob into as his body was violated. 

His head was spinning with terror and agony, the only phrase in his head being “this isn’t real.” Over and over he could hear himself saying “this isn’t real; this isn’t happening to me” though all he could force out his mouth were obscene grunts and screams. 

With the pain came the unbearable fullness, made worse by the weight of the other man leaning down on his back. He tried to spread his legs to make room for the thickness, but his jeans were still at his knees—binding him as effectively as ropes. 

His whole body was trembling and the only thing keeping him steady were the hands bruising his hips—the hands that drew him back against the painful intrusion again and again and again in an awful, steady rhythm. 

When his head was finally, _finally_ freed, Kellin turned his face out of the pillow in order to take a breath of cool air. His eyes snapped open as he tried to take in his surroundings, still trying to find a way out even though his wrists were bound and his situation proved dire. 

All he saw was a man laying next to him with his eyes squeezed shut, sobbing and shaking as well. He, too, had his wrists handcuffed over his head, though he didn’t even try tugging at them to make an escape. Whoever he was, he had long ago surrendered and his very existence terrified Kellin more than anything. How long had he been here?—How long was this monster planning to keep them _both_ here? 

What kind of hell was this?

Kellin let out a low moan of pain as the man slowed his thrusts—dragging them out longer and longer in order to maximize the amount of agony his motions caused his victim. 

“Yes, doesn’t that feel good?” The man cackled, snapping his hips forward until to pull back slowly—making Kellin groan again. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you, little whore? You love it.”

Kellin sobbed and shook his head, degradation washing over him as he was made to endure every bit of the torture. He tried to stifle his sounds, but the pain proved too much. In the end, his screams died down into hot, heavy sobs as he stared blankly at the person cowering beside him on the bed. 

At one point during the torture, their eyes met for the first time. Kellin stared at him, weeping—trying to plead for help with his eyes even though he knew this person was in no position to save him. 

“I’m sorry,” that other man mouthed, white teeth flashing in the dark. Kellin tried to focus on his features in an attempt to leave his body and the cruelties behind. Dark hair, defined eyebrows, soft features…an angular jaw.

Kellin could tell by looking at him why he himself had been targeted by the madman above him. They didn’t look alike, but they were similar—similar hair, similar features but a different bone structure. The fact that he’d been targeted based on his looks terrified him even more. If this wasn’t random, had he been being watched beforehand? For days? Or weeks? Had he missed something—some clue that he was being spied on—and in that way allowed this awful thing to happen to himself?

Kellin hissed as he felt an even sharper sting fill his insides, burning even hotter than the previous pain. The man’s hands were squeezing his hips so hard Kellin feared a bone may break under the force, then he began to slowly—horribly slowly—extract himself. 

The man said something cruel in his ear as he finally pulled all the way out, but the words were lost in a sea of other thoughts in Kellin’s head. Tears still poured from his eyes as he lay without fight against the mattress, allowing his hips to drop onto the bed. 

The pain didn’t stop even after the attack was over, but Kellin relished the moment of peace before he felt his cheeks being parted once again. 

He squeaked in fear and surprise as fingers were pressed inside of him, finally causing him to break his eye contact with the stranger, digging away at his insides as they twisted round and round until pressing against the only spot within him that ensured any kind of good feelings. 

There was too much pain for him to feel more than a subtle jolt of pleasure, but the pressure caused by the fingers made him moan. Even if it mostly a noise of pain, Kellin’s face still burned hot with shame. He _wasn’t_ aroused by this. He _wasn’t._ It hurt too much and those merciless digits rubbing him raw inside only worked to humiliate him further as he wiggled his hips in vain—knowing there was no escape.

Finally, the pain became too much and Kellin’s vision started to turn hazy. All of him went limp at once and he felt the handcuffs bite into his wrists harder than ever. 

The man pulled away at that point and, after a strange, uncertain moment where Kellin was no longer certain if he were awake or not, barked an order at the other man on the bed.

There was a rattle of metal and then a quick, “Clean him up—Clean him _up,_ Vic! Now!”

Kellin stared through the static in his vision at the man who had been laying beside him. All at once, he was gone and Kellin let his eyes slip closed in complete and utter surrender. There was no running from this. There was no escape from this…


	2. Chapter 2

Vic had diligently and gently washed up his “new friend’s” thighs, clearing away the spatters and trails of blood that ran down to his knees and—sadly—dribbled down from his opening to his groin. He was thankful the boy had fallen unconscious even if it made it harder to move him, just so he didn’t stress the boy any more than he already was. Vic hadn’t touched anyone this way before and his hands were still shaking from awful ordeal. 

He didn’t want to hurt the boy, but that was inevitable as he wiped at the nauseating mix of blood and seed on the boy’s skin with a damp cloth. After cleaning up his thighs, Vic fetched a fresh cloth and set to washing the boy’s face. He didn’t even twitch as Vic wiped the sweat from his brow and the tears from his cheeks, then dabbed at the blood on his split bottom lip. It quivered under his touch and Vic frowned at him in overwhelming pity. 

The boy’s presence frightened him but, even if this boy’s existence in the house foretold Vic’s death, he couldn’t show him any resentment. He looked so young, his features so soft and almost feminine. The way he’d stared at Vic during his awful torture with his big, deep eyes had broken his heart. Vic knew what that helplessness felt like and it killed him inside that there was absolutely nothing he could do in that moment to save him or make his suffering any less. 

Once his face was washed, Vic set the damp cloth aside on the floor and set to removing the boy’s shoes, socks, and jeans. Vic changed him into a pair of his own sweat pants and straightened his shirt a little more, but hesitated to cover him with the bloodied blankets. 

As he stood at the side of the bed, wondering what to do, Eddie appeared behind him and grasped him hard by his shoulder.

Vic stiffened, but couldn’t think of a word to say. He feared what came now. Would he be taken back to the cellar and killed? Was he about to be replaced by this new boy? If Eddie had no use for him, Vic was going to die in this awful hell without anyone ever finding out what had become of him. His body would never be found… Eddie would see to that. 

“What do you think?”

“Think, Sir?” Vic stammered, sniffing. 

“Pretty, ain’t he?”

“I-I guess so,” Vic said, still too nervous to collect his thoughts.

“You’d better guess so. I brought him here for you.”

Vic’s already broken heart shattered even more. He was the reason this boy was here? It was _his_ fault for this? “F-For me? Wh-why?”

“Since you’re falling asleep on me when we fuck, I thought he could help keep you awake.”

Vic couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t even fathom his captor’s logic in that moment. Deep down he knew the boy was here because Eddie wanted him, not because he drifted away during sex. Deep down he knew it wasn’t his fault…deep, deep down. 

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with dogs? When one gets old and worthless you buy it a puppy to play with?—Yeah,” Eddie said, answering his own question. “That way when the old dog needs _put down,_ you’ve already got a replacement.”

Vic bit his lip and fought the tears. He didn’t want to start crying again. His face hurt from how much he’d been sobbing already…

“Please… Please, don’t kill me. I-I’m sorry about the other day. I really am, Sir,” Vic pleaded.

“Oh, shut up,” Eddie said dismissively as he moved away from Vic and approached his dresser. He pulled out a pair of pajamas and began changing as Vic still stood motionless beside the bed. “Now, I’ll be home tomorrow, but you know I’ve got work on Monday. It’s up to you to get this house cleaned up and make sure he doesn’t try anything. If I get home and he’s gone, you bet your _ass_ you’re going back down in the cellar.”

“Yes, Sir,” Vic said, shuddering at the mere mention of cellar. He was threatened with it repeatedly, but hadn’t ever had to back since the day he’d been removed from it all those years ago. 

“If he gets to screaming, gag him. I don’t care how. Just make sure he can breathe. He’s no use to me dead.”

“Yes, Sir,” Vic repeated, looking away as Eddie stripped. His eyes traced the unconscious form of his new companion. He looked so small… Vic bet he wasn’t any older than sixteen—seventeen at the very, very most. Vic struggled to remember his own age, but estimated he was probably twenty or twenty one. It’d been a long time since he’d celebrated a birthday or remembered one passing. 

“How was his bleeding? Is it bad?” Eddie asked as he stepped into his pajama bottoms. That was all he ever wore to bed—no top—forcing Vic to lay skin-to-skin with him, not allowed to wear any clothes to bed at all himself no matter how cold it got at night.

“There was some blood, but…it wasn’t too bad,” Vic said quietly.

“Yeah, I thought I’d go easy on him this time. Didn’t want to hurt him too bad.” Eddie laughed at his own sick joke, then commanded Vic to strip and get into bed. After Eddie turned off the light, he climbed into bed in between both of his prisoners and sighed contentedly—as if he were the happiest man in the world. 

( ) ( ) ( )

About a week after Eddie brought the new boy into his home, he finally started letting him out of the cuffs—but only when Eddie was home for work. He commanded Vic to teach the boy how to prepare meals—cook breakfast and dinner, and organize packed lunches—and how to clean up the house with the few supplies they had. 

The boy was so timid and nervous the first day he was off the cuffs and Eddie saw to it that he stayed terrified. All the boy did was sit on the couch next to Vic when he wasn’t being made to cook or clean, but Eddie would start reprimanding him.

Eddie would smack him for “copping an attitude” when in reality the boy had just been sitting there silently, his knees to his chest. He’d push him into Vic, then make fun of him for leaning against Vic’s chest. 

After that, however, Vic just took to holding the boy. The nameless boy didn’t seem to like it at first, but when the slaps stopped coming after Vic started hugging him, he relaxed a bit. 

Vic could handle it when Eddie taunted him for taking a liking to his “new friend.” In some respects, Vic started to get the sense that it was safer to act like this boy was the best present in the world. After a week, Eddie stopped looking at him like he was trying to make up his mind.

Vic knew what was behind that look. Eddie was deciding whether or not to kill him and replace him with this new boy or to keep him alive and have them both. When Vic presented himself as being completely enthralled and wrapped up in this new boy’s presence, Eddie seemed to like it. He was building his own harem and it was easier if both of his playthings liked one another. 

“Do you like him?” Eddie asked repeatedly. Every day—multiple times a day. “Do you like him, Vic?”

Vic always gave the same answers: 

“Yes, sir,” spoken with the sweetest of smiles, and “Not as much as I love you,” typically followed with a kiss. The boy would glare at him when he kissed Eddie, not understanding their relationship quite yet.

It took a while to convince him that he really was just another slave in Eddie’s house, no more superior or inferior than the new boy—as if being taken on the bed next to the boy every other night didn’t drive that point home enough. There was something uniquely awful about watching another person being violated that melded the two together.

They knew, inescapably, each other’s pain. It was on the second week of the new boy’s imprisonment that he and Vic truly became more than sympathetic captives. It was Vic’s turn to bear the brunt of Eddie’s lust and the new boy was cuffed to the bed by one wrist watching helplessly, his free hand pressed to his mouth as he lay on his stomach. 

Eddie was being particularly difficult that night and had twisted Vic into over four different positions, trying to find the perfect one. Vic had made the mistake of sighing heavily as he was flipped onto his back yet again, tired of being manhandled and desperate for the attack to just happen and be over, and Eddie started smacking him. He’d been struck several times, then Eddie began raping him as viciously as he could—keeping his pace fast and brutal as Vic pushed against his chest and screamed. 

Of course, his resistance just made Eddie laugh and hurt him more until Vic collapsed against the mattress and sobbed helplessly. That was when he felt a hand wrap around his own. He turned his head and saw the new boy staring at him, crying silently. He held Vic’s hand, even after it was over and Eddie declared he was going to take a shower and left them.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked, sniffing back tears.

Vic managed a nod and rolled over onto his side so he could better face his companion. 

“My name’s Kellin,” he whispered.

“Hi, Kellin,” Vic whispered back. It was a far belated introduction, but Vic didn’t blame him for withholding his name. It was one thing they had that could’ve been a secret. Vic could’ve lied and said his name was anything in the world and Eddie would’ve been none the wiser. He looked at Vic’s wallet long enough to take his cash and had probably done the same with Kellin’s. Their names didn’t matter to him. 

“How long have you been here?” Kellin asked. Vic merely shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it, not after what had just happened to him. “How long have I been here?”

“A few weeks,” Vic said gently. “It gets easier with time. I promise.” He didn’t know what sort of comfort that could give, but he wanted Kellin to know that even if it hurt, it would never be as bad as it was in the early days. 

Kellin showed more and more trust in him after that, even after Eddie overheard them speaking once and learned Kellin’s name. He didn’t blame Vic for it and surrendered the last bits of his pride to Eddie who used his name to command him like a dog.

When Eddie would go to work, he’d leave Kellin handcuffed to the bed and ordered Vic to care for him—bringing him water and lunch and making sure he behaved. 

That meant Vic had at least five hours in the afternoon to lay on the bed beside Kellin and talk with him. At first he mostly just talked at the boy, wishing Kellin would speak to him. But after the night Kellin held his head and revealed his name, he started to communicate more—though never anything too personal.

Kellin had been passionate about music the same way Vic had been, only he’d been a singer in a small garage band before Eddie had snatched him. Kellin told Vic stories about the two shows he’d gotten to play as an opener in bars he wasn’t even old enough to be in, and Vic ate up every detail—wishing he’d had the chance to open for anybody, anywhere. Wising he’d done more than just scribble lyrics in his notebooks and self-consciously pluck at his guitar strings back when he’d been at home…

So much time just _wasted_ feeling inferior, unaware that he could’ve been somebody if only he’d tried. 

“I want to hear you sing,” Vic had said, laying his head down in Kellin’s lap. He didn’t think much of the gesture—they’d seen every bit of each other’s bodies over the past few weeks and had been made to lay on and beside each other countless times—but Kellin’s eyes went wide and he’d started to blush, fidgeting against the headboard. “Your voice is really…calming,” Vic said.

“You wouldn’t say that if you heard my lyrics,” Kellin answered, smiling just a little. He still looked so haunted by the memories of his life before…

“I’d give _anything_ to hear you sing,” Vic said, not sure why he was pushing it when he knew Kellin was in no mood to sing. He was like a meadow lark—the possessor of a beautiful sound that was never to be heard when kept in captivity. 

“Yeah… Maybe sometime we could sing together. When we know Eddie won’t be home.”

Vic agreed and let their conversation trail off, content to rest with his head in Kellin’s warm lap. He really couldn’t have asked for a better companion and he was almost grateful Eddie had brought him someone to help pass the time. The only thing that kept him from being happy with the arrangement was that Kellin was being hurt here, too. Kellin seemed so shy and sweet… He didn’t deserve the things that happened to him here. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin laid in the bed trembling, unable to even rejoice in the fact that his wrists had been left unbound by Eddie—his captor—when he left for work. It had been over a month since he’d been taken from the park bench. Eddie promised him a place to stay…said he was a pastor at a local church. Kellin didn’t care much for God, but he’d been all too relieved to have a chance to sleep someplace safe after spending so many days on the streets, burning in the desert sun. He’d gotten into Eddie’s truck and ignored his instincts when they screamed at him that something wasn’t. 

He didn’t even resist when Eddie took him into the fenced in, secluded property. The dog frightened him, but Eddie had snapped a command which sent it reeling. 

“You can put your bag wherever,” Eddie had said after the door to the tiny home had closed. 

No sooner had Kellin set his book bag full of his only belongings on the floor did he feel Eddie’s hand gripping his shoulder. 

“Now how about you pay me back for all the gas I just spent getting you here, huh? You’ve got such a pretty little mouth—let’s see what it can do.”

Kellin hadn’t even been able to pull away he was so surprised. He stood there in shock as Eddie kissed him, one of the man’s hands coming up to stroke his hair. But that petting turned fast to a tight fist when Kellin resisted him…

He’d been dragged into the bedroom and raped—then raped again. Then again. Then again and again and again. Every other day it seemed. And when he wasn’t the one being raped it was Vic—always on the bed beside him. It never happened in private, as though Eddie wanted the other to watch. 

The worst happened on the third or fourth week of Kellin’s captivity. Vic had been tending to him as he did every day—all day—bringing him water and food when he was bound and just generally keeping him company even though Kellin often didn’t feel up to talking. Eddie was in the other room watching television (or so Kellin had assumed) and Vic was sitting with Kellin on the bed, brushing his hair and talking about absolutely nothing.

It had been a story about…napkins or paper towels. Vic somehow found humor in his meaningless story and had laughed, a strange sort of chuckle that made Kellin blush. When Vic saw him become flustered they shared this odd look. It was…affectionate, Kellin felt. 

He knew Vic cared about him—he was probably the only person in the entire world who did—but that look spoke of an affection far deeper than that of a caregiver. 

If the look didn’t say enough, the kiss sure as hell did. Kellin was as shocked by the unprompted kiss as he had been when Eddie had first kissed him, but it hadn’t been a _bad_ surprise. It filled him with warmth in the brief second that it lasted. It wasn’t forceful, though it was unexpected. There was no tongue trying to get in his mouth, no hand between his legs, or lust stinking up the air. It was innocent.

It had been wonderful…

And then Eddie was there and he’d seen it, too. He’d grabbed Vic by his shoulder and spun him around, then punched him in the jaw so hard he flung backwards against the bed—against Kellin who was still shackled to the headboard and couldn’t move to catch him or get out of the way. 

Vic sat up a second later, cradling his jaw, only to be struck again, then flipped over onto his stomach as Eddie screamed at him for trying to use “their toy” without his permission. Kellin was made to lay there helplessly as Vic was repeatedly struck until he cried. 

After Vic had been taken care of, Eddie turned his rage onto Kellin who received his own blows no matter how many times Vic pleaded for Eddie to spare him. He was the one Eddie chose to violate, pulling Kellin’s hair the entire time and telling Vic to watch and “look at what he’d done.” 

To have such a peaceful moment, the first — dare he say — _happy_ moment in days of captivity turn to such horror and pain was worse than the physical tortures. It was Eddie driving into their brains that happiness only happened here on his terms. Vic apologized over and over for what happened and wouldn’t even look Kellin in the eyes for a week afterwards he was so torn up over it. 

The pain, Kellin had grown used to. The loneliness, the loss of his connection with Vic—the knowing, sad stares they’d share with one another to prove they weren’t alone in this hell—was agony. 

Vic only came around again after another assault. It was Vic’s turn to be violated, this time before Eddie left for work, and Vic had been unable to move his pain was so great. He curled into Kellin’s side for comfort—safe to show his affections now that Eddie was gone. Kellin wished he could’ve held him, but his wrists were still bound—so sore and numb from disuse. 

“We have to get out of here,” Vic had cried that day. 

Kellin echoed those sentiments now. His body hurt everywhere—from the top of his head to the soles of his feet—and he couldn’t move to get up even though he wanted to. He wanted to go be where Vic was—wherever in the house that might be. He didn’t want to be alone in this room. 

Eddie was gone to work and it was his first time free in the man’s absence. All he could think of was escape and how he could work up the courage to do it. He just needed Vic to support him. He believed in anything Vic said. 

“Vic?” Kellin squeaked, ashamed of how pathetic his voice sounded even to himself. Eddie robbed him of all his fire, all his spirit. He’d run away from home in hopes to find himself and be who he wanted to be, not who his parents and his school thought he should be… All he’d found was Eddie who reminded him of how worthless he was on his own. “Vic?” Kellin called again, a little louder. 

“Coming, Kells. Just a second,” Vic called. Moments later he entered the room with a mug in one hand. “Kellin!—Did he leave you… No handcuffs?” 

“I guess he forgot to put them back on me,” Kellin said, sitting up a little shakily, careful to stay on his side so as to avoid causing himself any more pain. 

“Oh, my god! This is great!” Vic said, coming to the bed and setting the mug down on the end table. He grabbed both of Kellin’s wrists and stroked the red scars on his wrists with his thumbs. “This is so big… If we’re good today, that means he’ll probably let you out tomorrow too.”

“If we’re _good?”_ Kellin asked, pulling his wrists back from Vic’s hands. 

“Y-Yeah… What’s the matter?”

“This is our _chance,”_ Kellin said, looking Vic sternly in the eyes. Maybe Vic never tried to run, but Kellin wasn’t going to stay here when there was nothing keeping him physically bound. “We can _leave.”_

Vic just kept staring at him, frowning with his lips slightly parted. His eyes looked so sad, as though Kellin were abandoning him here as opposed to offering him the chance to run _with_ him. 

“We can’t. That dog is out there.”

“The dog? Forget about the dog. We’ll take a knife or something and stab it. I don’t care what we do, but I want out of this place, Vic.” 

Vic looked from Kellin to the bedroom window. It overlooked the backyard where that large, ugly mutt spent most of its time. Vic did have a right to be intimidated, though Kellin didn’t want to admit it. Still he believed they could breech the fence before the dog got them. If they were quiet or waited until they saw the dog napping, then they’d be fine, right? They could run and find a neighbor. They could escape this hell hole together.

“Kellin, we _can’t._ He could be outside watching us. You don’t want to know what he’ll do if he sees us try to run.” Vic was starting to look like he might cry; he was even wringing his hands nervously. Kellin knew then he wouldn’t be able to convince him. 

“Then I’ll go. And I’ll find help. I won’t leave you here.”

“He’ll kill me. If he finds me alone, he’s going to kill me, Kellin. Don’t… Don’t do this. Now’s just not the time.”

“Now is the _perfect_ time. I can’t take any more of this. I’m tired of being _afraid_ all the time. Aren’t you?”

“Kellin, please. We can’t!”

“Yes. We _can,”_ Kellin said, forcing himself to mask the pain as he got to his feet and started getting dressed. Eddie had bought him new clothes—making his style an exact replica of Vic’s. He wanted them to be interchangeable. He made Kellin part his hair the same way Vic parted his—as if trying to make them look like twins even though their skin color and bone structure were so far apart. “I’m going, Vic.”

“You can barely even walk,” Vic protested, grabbing Kellin’s wrist feebly as he went to leave the bedroom. “Kellin, you can’t go!”

“I have to!” Kellin shouted, his voice cracking. “Maybe you want to stay here for the rest of your fucking life, but I _don’t,_ okay? I want out of here!”

“I want out too, but it’s not that simple! That dog will tear you apart!”

“I told you, Vic! I’m going to take a knife. Maybe it’ll bite me, but I’m going to fight back! It’d be even better if you were there to _help_ me.” Kellin glared at him, unable to fight his resentment at how _pathetic_ Vic was. 

Here was their chance. The two of them could take on that stupid mutt if they could just work as a team. Sure, one of them was going to get bitten, but they’d already been through worse inside Eddie’s house. Kellin would rather get bitten than _violated_ again like he had been that morning. The dog wasn’t going to whisper words of hate into his ear that poisoned his mind. The dog couldn’t hurt him the ways Eddie did. 

This was there chance and Vic was petrified. He’d been alone with Eddie too long. The man had brainwashed him and stolen all his fight. 

“If he catches us—” Vic started. Kellin cut him off by yanking his hand out of Vic’s.

“If you’re too scared, then you can just stay here. I’ll go myself. I’ll find help on my own.” 

Vic followed Kellin as he made his way into the bathroom where he washed his face to clean off Eddie’s kisses and his own snot and tears. He was sick of being reduced to such a pathetic state day in and day out—it was just a pity that Vic didn’t feel the same. 

He’d been here five years—wasn’t he sick of this shit yet? 

“Kellin?” Vic pressed, hovering in the bathroom doorway. 

“I’m _going._ You can’t talk me out of it.”

“I know…” Vic sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. “I-I… I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Don’t want anything to happen to me!? Where the hell have you been? Shit happens to me every day!—Horrible shit! And I’m sick of it! Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I know what it’s like here. It’s not that easy.” Vic was pleading with his eyes for Kellin to reconsider, but wouldn’t. 

“It _is_ that easy,” Kellin said, softening his voice just a touch when he saw how much pain was reflected in Vic’s face. He’d been here five years… Of course Eddie had his hooks in him. Of course he was scared to run. “I promise, I’m going to find someone and get you help.”


	3. Chapter 3

Vic felt like his heart was being sawed in half—literally sawed in half. The jagged blades tore through his chest and weakened him more and more with each, rough scrape. 

Kellin was going to run. It was the first time Eddie trusted him enough to leave him unrestrained when he wasn’t home and Kellin was going to risk everything on an escape plan that wouldn’t work. It just _couldn’t_ work.

He was still too ambitious and naïve. He believed that he had a chance when Vic _knew_ he didn’t. But no amount of telling him that was changing Kellin’s mind. 

He truly believed that a kitchen knife would save him from that monster outside—and believed Vic would come to his aid if it didn’t. Kellin didn’t understand that Vic _couldn’t._ He just couldn’t do it. He was too afraid. He was too painfully aware of the consequences that came with failure to risk it… And he was _terrified_ of that dog.

“Last chance, Vic,” Kellin said, one hand grasping the doorknob, the other wrapped around the handle of the long knife. 

“Don’t do this,” Vic said, staying back three feet from the door. He was shaking and couldn’t understand how Kellin could be so calm. Was he really that confident? 

“I have to,” Kellin said, keeping his eyes locked with Vic’s. He swallowed hard, then nodded his head and turned the knob. The door gave an unfriendly crack as Kellin pulled it open. 

Vic faltered backwards, the irrational fear that the dog would be standing there waiting for them taking over him. But there was no dog—just the bright, white sunlight which nearly blinded him after he’d spent so many years regarding it only after it’d been filtered through the yellowed blinds and curtains.

He could see across the dusty front lawn, only a sparse patch or two of dried grass growing along the worn dirt path of Eddie’s driveway. In the distance he could see the chain link and barbed wire fence that separated them from freedom.

Vic bet it was padlocked, and he doubted Kellin would have that forethought. He wanted to warn him, but knew it wouldn’t make Kellin hesitate or reconsider. He’d climb the fence despite the sharp protrusions. He’d been through so much pain already that a fence wasn’t going to be what stopped him.

“I’m going,” Kellin said, looking at Vic one last time. 

Vic chewed his bottom lip, but could think of nothing worthwhile to say in return. Begging didn’t work on Kellin. He wanted to save him, but he couldn’t change his mind. 

“I’ll get help. Try to stay alive until then.”

Vic scanned the yard once more before Kellin stepped out onto the wooden steps and slowly closed the door behind him, holding the knife down at his side—prepared to use it if the moment came, even though the dog was nowhere to be seen.

After the door had shut, Vic hurried over to it and parted the curtain, looking out through the dirty glass at Kellin’s warped, foggy form as he slowly traversed the cracked ground. Vic kept turning his eyes away from Kellin, searching for the dog—his ears straining to hear the telltale jingling of its collar.

He held his breath as he watched Kellin move, a distinct limp in his stride. He was wearing the same outfit he’d had on when Eddie had grabbed him, but his backpack full of belongings was still missing. Eddie had hidden it somewhere in the house—or maybe in the cellar—and Kellin had been furious when he couldn’t find it. 

The fury just seemed to help drive him toward his goal of escape. When he reached the middle of the lawn, knife still held threateningly out to one side, Vic began to believe that they had a chance. Kellin was going to make it. His heart was still pounding, but Vic dared to feel hopeful—the smallest of smiles overcoming his lips as Kellin moved closer and closer to the fence. 

Then Vic heard it—the deep, threatening bark. Kellin froze on the spot and started looking back and forth, bringing up the knife to hold it out in front of him. 

“Kellin!” Vic shouted, pressing against the door to get a better look as the dog burst into view. It was running for Kellin as fast as its legs could carry it, its paws kicking up a cloud of tan dust behind it. 

Kellin staggered a moment, then started running back toward the house, looking over his shoulder at the dog that snarled and bayed at him. Vic saw a flash of silver and realized Kellin had either dropped or thrown the knife—his only defense gone mere seconds before the hound pounced on him. 

Its paws struck Kellin in the middle of his back, throwing him forward onto the ground.

Vic screamed in horror and backed away from the door, a hand coming to his mouth as he heard Kellin emit an ear-splitting scream. The dog growled viciously and Vic could only imagine the horrors unfolding in the lawn. 

He was prepared to crumple onto the floor and cry in despair, prepared to cover his ears in hopes of blocking out Kellin’s dying screams—then he heard his name being called over and over again. 

Kellin was screaming for him. Kellin needed him and, as frightened as Vic was, he couldn’t let the cries go unanswered. He didn’t want to be left alone again with only Eddie for company. He didn’t want Kellin mauled to death by the big, brown dog. 

He didn’t even give himself time to gather his strength or courage. Vic bolted back toward the door and threw it open, blinking hard against the blinding light.

“Kellin!” He screamed, knowingly drawing the dog’s attention to his approach.

The beast didn’t even look up from its captive. It had Kellin on the ground, its teeth buried deep in his arm as it shook its head back and forth.

Kellin screamed, loud and shrill, and kicked his feet—trying to get free as his head pressed back against the dirt from his pain, his eyes squeezed shut.

Vic knew he would never win against the dog on his own and stopped running just long enough to assess his surroundings. There were no weapons within his reach—just a shovel leaning against the front of the house. He didn’t have time to go back for it and the only thing he could see to use was a rock partially buried in the dirt. 

Without a second thought, he stooped down and grabbed it, breaking and cracking several of his fingernails as he scrambled to pry it from the dirt. Once it was in his hand, he ran with the heavy stone weighing down one side of him until he stood beside his fallen friend and the vicious animal tearing him apart. 

When Vic’s shadow was cast over the dog, it released its hold on Kellin’s arm and stared up at him instead—baring all of its bloodied teeth. It still had one of its paws on Kellin’s chest and one of its back feet was between his knees in the dirt—effectively trapping him on the ground, giving him no chance of rolling away. 

Vic’s heart was pounding as his eyes locked with those of the dog, and he gave a loud scream as he lifted the stone over his head and brought it down as hard as he could. He’d been aiming for the monster’s head, but the dog lunged at him, causing the stone to strike the beast’s shoulder instead of its skull.

Even so, it gave a shrill yelp and withdrew—all of its paws moving from position and allowing Kellin to roll over onto his stomach. Vic, still holding fast to the stone, lifted it again and chucked at the dog—striking its hip this time and causing the animal to fall onto its side. 

“Kellin, come on!” Vic yelled, reaching down and grabbing Kellin by his bloodied shoulder. Kellin was still moaning and calling out in pain as he was hoisted to his feet. 

Vic looked toward the fence, then back at the dog which was standing back up. They couldn’t make it to the fence in time. Vic had no choice but to hurry back toward the house, struggling to support Kellin who it seemed could only put weight on one leg. 

He could hear the dog running toward them again just as they started up the steps to the open door, and it gave a final growl as it lunge—striking Vic in the back as it had done to Kellin. 

Vic braced himself, allowing his arms to unwind from Kellin—letting the other boy fall forward, half of his body striking the rug inside the front door—so that he wouldn’t fall down under the force of the dog. It struck him with all of its weight, but Vic stood his ground and was able to trudge forward despite the pain that suddenly radiated through his shoulder. Whether he was bitten or scratched, he couldn’t tell. All he could focus on was getting into the house. There were weapons there and rooms to hide in. 

He was no longer scared of what Eddie would do—he was afraid of what the hound could do. 

“Kellin, move!” Vic yelled when Kellin still lay halfway in the house. The dog dropped away from Vic’s back, his teeth ensnared in the sleeve of Vic’s shirt. It carried with its movements enough force to cause Vic to fall backwards, but he yanked his arm as he did—tearing away the strip of fabric in the dog’s mouth so he could get free. “Move, Kellin!” He screamed again as he made it into the house. Kellin was on all fours, blocking the door. He seemed to be in too much shock to move on his own and Vic had to push him to get him out of the way in order to slam the door shut.

Even after it had closed, the dog slammed against it again—making it harder and harder for Vic to re-latch the deadbolt. Once he’d gotten it latched, he fell to the floor in a shaking heap. Kellin laid on the floor next to him sobbing and clutching at his arm which had turned crimson from all the blood. 

“Kellin?” Vic wheezed, suddenly becoming very aware of the pain in his shoulder and down his arm. 

The dog answered him before Kellin could, slamming into the door again and scratching at it with both its feet. Vic was certain its paws would smash through the glass window on the door, but didn’t know if it would be able to crawl in through the hole it made. 

“Kellin?—Are you okay?” He asked feebly, knowing by the amount of blood that Kellin was far from alright.

“I didn’t even get to stab the son of a bitch,” Kellin groaned, his voice cracking. Now that he was safe, he seemed to be coming out of his stupor. “Vic?”

“Yeah?” Vic panted.

“I’m _sorry._ You were right… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vic said, slowly scooting toward Kellin on the floor. It was anything but okay, but telling Kellin they were fucked wasn’t going to help them any. 

“What are we going to tell Eddie?” Kellin asked, crying as he sat himself up on the floor, finally looking down at his arm. 

“We can’t lie to him. He’ll know. There’s nothing we can do but show him we’re sorry.”

“He’s going to _kill us!”_ Kellin screamed, looking at Vic with hard, tearful eyes. 

“I know…” Truthfully, Vic would rather face whatever hell Eddie had in store for him than bear witness to that animal’s cruelty again. It would probably involve being smothered or nearly drowned in the bathtub, might even involve getting locked in the cellar again where he’d be violated and beaten—but even that was better than feeling the hound’s teeth yet again.

“How can you just sit there and say that?” Kellin asked. “How do you just _accept it?_ We don’t _belong_ here! This isn’t okay!”

“I know, but what can we do, Kellin? You saw what happens if we try to leave. Pleasing Eddie and doing what he says is the only way _I’ve found_ to stay alive in this place.”

“This isn’t _alive!”_ Kellin said, hanging his head as he started to sob, his will breaking just a little bit more. Before too long, he wasn’t going to have any fight left… Witnessing that was going to be like witnessing death and Vic bowed his head. 

They needed to move and get cleaned up. Vic was probably going to have to dig out the first aid kit and try to find a needle to give Kellin stitches to stop his bleeding, but for now the two were content to just sit there and relish the fact that—for the moment—they’d both survived.


	4. Chapter 4

Kellin knew from the moment Eddie stepped into the house that they were in for it. He and Vic were hiding in the bedroom, an offering of dinner left on the kitchen table for Eddie who probably didn’t even look at it. He appeared in the bedroom doorway and looked them over in the dim light, then pulled the kitchen knife Kellin had dropped in the yard from his belt.

“Do either of you want to tell me what _this_ is about?” Eddie snapped.

Vic was shaking, his eyes squeezed shut as he and Kellin lay chest to chest. Kellin just stared at Eddie, too afraid to even blink let alone try to explain. How could he just let himself confess that he’d tried to run away? But what _excuse_ could he make up? 

Eddie already knew what happened. He didn’t need to hear it from them.

“I’d better get an answer or else this knife is getting stuffed down one your throats!” Eddie boomed.

Vic whimpered and rolled over on the bed, pressing his back snug against Kellin’s chest.

“Well!?” Eddie boomed, glaring at them with red hot fury.

Kellin shivered, knowing that Vic had no choice but to speak the truth. It would be worse for them both if they lied, even though Kellin felt for certain one of them would be dead before the night was over. 

“I-I went outside, Sir,” Vic said. “I… I took the kn-knife and tried to s-stab the dog.”

Kellin’s eyes went wide, his heart starting to pound even harder than before. Vic was taking the blame. He kept speaking, telling the story in a shaking, uneasy voice, leaving out Kellin’s name and his involvement all together.

Why would he do that? Why would he throw himself under the bus like that? He had to realize that neither of them was going to be spared Eddie’s wrath tonight. Why would he risk making it worse for himself?

After he finished his story, Eddie slipped the knife back into his belt and started toward the bed.

“Well, Victor, I appreciate your honesty, but you know what?” He spoke with such a gentle tone, but even Kellin could tell it was fake. Vic stiffened and pressed even harder against Kellin who couldn’t help but drape a protective arm over him. He knew there was nothing he could do to spare him what Eddie had in mind, but he wanted Vic to know that his efforts to protect him were appreciated—even if they didn’t work. “I don’t believe a single. _fucking._ word.”

Eddie lunged for Vic and grabbed him by his hair, yanking the thin, dark strands until he’d pulled his captive onto the floor. 

“Do you think I’m some kind of moron!?” He boomed, looming over Vic and kicking him in the side three times—each with more and more force. “You know better! Vic, you _know _better!”__

__Vic lay on the floor, curled into the fetal position and covering his head with his arms._ _

__“I’m sorry, Sir! Sir, I’m sorry!” He pleaded, only earning himself a few more kicks before Eddie’s wrath turned on Kellin._ _

__“Got outside, didn’t you, you fucking whore!?” Eddie screamed, grabbing for Kellin who was too petrified with fear to do more than flinch. “You think I’m blind? You think I don’t see all that blood in the yard!? You think I’m an _idiot!?”__ _

__“No! No, Eddie—I’m sorry!” Kellin screamed as Eddie raised his fist and started punching him. First it was the top of his head, then his shoulder, then his jaw. The blow to his jaw sent Kellin reeling backwards, his body tipping over the edge of the bed though unable to fall as Eddie had him trapped in place by the collar of his shirt._ _

__“You’re _sorry!?_ I let you go! I let you free to walk around the house, and how do you repay me!? You try to run off and then you sit there and let Vic _lie_ to me!”_ _

__“Please—Please, Eddie! It won’t happen again! I promise, Eddie! I promise!” Kellin continued to babble pleas and apologies as Eddie proceeded to beat him—alternating between slap and punches before finally pinning Kellin to the bed by his throat._ _

__Kellin clawed at Eddie’s hands, but to no avail—the man continued to squeeze with all his strength, still shouting about Kellin’s disrespect and Vic’s idiocy._ _

__He only released his hold when Kellin’s vision began to grow hazy, and while he gasped a lungful of air, Eddie turned his attention back to Vic._ _

__“You wanted me to believe _Vic_ was behind it all?—Isn’t that right, Kellin? You want me to punish him?” Eddie asked, pulling Vic up from the floor by his arm. _ _

__Kellin stared through bleary eyes at Vic whose nose and lips were dribbling blood down his neck, staining his shirt. Vic’s eyes were shut tight against the pain as Eddie shook him, his furrowed brow being the only part of his expression which showed his fear._ _

__“D-Don’t hurt him, Eddie—please. He didn’t do anything!”_ _

__“Oh, he _didn’t do anything?”_ Eddie taunted, mimicking Kellin’s tone. _ _

__“Eddie, _please!”__ _

__“I think it’s a little too late for you to go and change your story now. Vic did it—that’s what he told me, and you kept your pretty little mouth shut. So you know what?”_ _

__“Eddie,” Kellin pleaded, looking from the monster to Vic who was quietly crying—not even trying to pull free of Eddie’s grip. He was completely submissive. He had already surrendered himself to Eddie’s will in a feeble attempt to spare himself any more pain._ _

__“Vic’s going to pay for it. You’ll get your share too, but Vic…” Eddie’s demeanor suddenly shifted as he began caressing Vic’s cheek somewhat lovingly. “Poor, poor Vic…”’_ _

__Vic opened his eyes and stared at Kellin who immediately turned away, unable to face him. This hadn’t been the plan. He was supposed to run. He was supposed to get away and find _help._ He hadn’t meant to get Vic bitten by the dog or subjected to Eddie’s cruel rage._ _

__“He’s gonna learn what happens when you disrespect me. He’s going to learn _all over again.”__ _

__Vic let out a loud sob and bowed his head, knowing better than Kellin what that threat entailed._ _

__“Now, Kell, I know you probably want to watch, but, unfortunately, this is between Vic and me. So you’re just going to have to be patient and wait for me to come give you yours,” Eddie said before tugging Vic with him to the bedroom door. “It might be a while, so get comfortable—oh, and don’t forget: I’m not stupid enough to believe that _Vic_ tried to leave me, but since you want it to seem that way, _everything_ that happens to him from here on out, is your fault, Kellin. Remember that.”_ _

__Kellin shook his head, helplessness and self-loathing washing over him. Vic had begged him not to try to escape. Vic told him over and over that it wouldn’t work and would just get them in trouble. Vic had saved Kellin’s _life,_ knowing that by going outside he, too, would incur Eddie’s wrath. And now he was going to pay for it… Vic didn’t deserve that. He didn’t…_ _

__( ) ( ) ( )_ _

__Vic cried shamelessly as he was dragged outside and around the side of the house to the cellar door. He begged Eddie to reconsider—to do anything else besides lock him down in the dark again—but Eddie said nothing. He stayed silent after closing Kellin up in the bedroom—blocking the door with a chair jammed under the knob—and just pulled Vic with him._ _

__The dog rushed them as soon as they stepped outside and Vic nearly collapsed from the fear, trying fall back into the house—back where it was safe—only to be yanked forward again. Eddie shouted at the dog which tucked its tail and ran. Mad and vicious though it was, even the monster seemed to know not to mess with Eddie._ _

__He was thrown down the cellar steps and crumpled into a pathetic heap on the dirt floor, shaking too badly to even crawl away as Eddie slowly stepped down beside him._ _

__“Now…what am I going to do with you?” Eddie asked, circling Vic like a vulture. “I could break your legs. Smash them both with my sledge hammer. Snap your ankles first, then your knee caps. Leave you crippled… What do you think?”_ _

__Vic sobbed helplessly and covered his eyes, willing himself away from this nightmare. Every threat Eddie spoke, Vic knew he was capable of following through with. And Eddie would take great pleasure in the tortures._ _

__“I asked you a question, Vic.”_ _

__“I-I can’t c-clean the ho-house if my legs are broken,” Vic cried, trying to find a way out—any possible way out._ _

__“True. That’s very true, but you’re forgetting one thing. I have _Kellin_ now. He’s younger, he’s hotter, and his ass is a hell of a lot tighter than yours. It’s expensive feeding both of you, so…try again.”_ _

__“B-Because I _love_ you, Eddie! I’m in love with you!” Vic cried. The words weren’t lies. He’d spent so long with Eddie… He’d learned so much about him. He hated Eddie’s house and he hated what the man reduced him to day in and day out, but he _needed_ the man. He relied on him. He counted on him for everything._ _

__“You say that, but then you go and try to run away from me. You got bitten, too, didn’t you? Yeah—I can see the mark right _there_ on your shoulder.” He kicked Vic on his side, forcing him to roll over. “You were trying to run, too.”_ _

__“I had to get Kellin!” Vic sobbed. “He was the one who ran, Eddie. I _begged_ him not to! I _begged_ him, Eddie! I told him not to go—not to leave me!”_ _

__“Oh, not to leave _you!?_ That’s all it’s about, isn’t it? You, you, _you!”_ Eddie set to kicking him again and all Vic could do was curl into himself and try to protect his head and face. “Right is right, and fair is fair, Vic… And you know what?”_ _

__He ceased his kicks in favor of kneeling down beside Vic’s head, lowering his face until it was inches from Vic’s. Taking a fistful of Vic’s hair, Eddie forced Vic to look him in the eye—forcing Vic to see the fire and hatred that burned in them with such contradiction to the coldness of his soul._ _

__“I told you if you ever tried to run away, I’d kill you. You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word, would you?”_ _

__“Eddie, please,” Vic sobbed, slowly reaching out to stroke his attacker’s stubbly cheek. “I _love_ you. You don’t have to do this.”_ _

__Eddie released his hold on Vic’s hair and stood back up with a heavy sigh. He stared down at Vic and listened to his pleading for a little while longer before turning and walking back toward the cellar stairs._ _

__“Don’t leave me here!” Vic called after him, his voice low and broken. “Eddie, don’t go! I-I can’t be in the dark!” Being locked in the cellar was equivalent of a living death—the same as being buried alive. He was always cold and could never see a thing except shadows upon more shadows in the dark._ _

__“Quit your crying. I’ll be back. Probably sooner than you’d like, I must admit,” Eddie said with a soft chuckle as he mounted the steps and then, with a sneer, slammed the metal doors closed. When the metal lock screeched into place, all of Vic’s hopes for mercy were snuffed out. Whether he’d be beaten or burned alive, he didn’t know. He would never know. And that uncertainty drove his closer and closer to madness as he lay on the floor waiting for Eddie’s return._ _

__It could be minutes. It could be hours. It could be _days.__ _

__Or he could simply just leave Vic there in the dark forever… Leave him to starve without ever seeing sunlight again._ _

__Vic was in hysterics by the time Eddie returned only minutes later—left a shaking, weeping mess. He clawed at the ground with his cracked fingernails even though he knew he would never be able to dig himself free but needing to try._ _

__He stared through the pitch black at the cellar doors when he heard the metal latch scream again, then his eyes went wide in terror when the first thing he saw in the dim sunset light overhead was the dog. Eddie had it on a leash but was guiding it down into the cellar._ _

__“Eddie, no!” Vic screamed, causing the dog to bark at him and tug harder at his leash. Vic backed away as fast as he could, struggling to crawl with how badly he hurt from being kicked and thrown. “Please—Please, don’t do this!”_ _

__“What, are you scared of Bailey?” Eddie asked._ _

__“Yes!” Vic admitted, no shame at all. The dog was trying its hardest to break free of Eddie’s hold, shaking its head back and forth—its front paws lifted off the ground as it lunged for Vic, restrained only by a red leash wound around Eddie’s fist._ _

__“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you tried to run off, don’t you think?”_ _

__“It was Kellin!” Vic cried, staring past the dog at Eddie, praying this was all some kind of trick. Eddie just wanted to scare him—he wasn’t going to let the animal loose to rip him apart. “He’s the one who ran! I only went outside to save him! Please, Eddie!”_ _

__“No, no, Vic. You said _you_ were the one who did it. Don’t go changing your story now. You tried to run away, and now you can suffer the consequences—so tell me: How far do you think you’ll get with no skin left on your legs?”_ _

__Vic barely had time to scream before the dog was over top of him—its mouth coming straight for his face. Its front legs dangled over his chest when he fell to the floor, the leash too tight for it to be able to reach him—mere centimeters of space left between its jaws and Vic’s chin._ _

__If it stopped pulling at the leash it would be able to bite his arms or his legs—but all the beast wanted was to sink its teeth into his skull._ _

__( ) ( ) ( )_ _

__Kellin tugged as hard as he could at the cuffs, trying so hard to break them or break the headboard._ _

__“Vic!” He screamed, hoping his friend could hear him through the floorboards. “Vic, I-I’m coming!”_ _

__For over ten minutes he’d been forced to listen helplessly to the sounds of Eddie’s dog barking—and poor Vic screaming for mercy. Eddie was letting the dog rip him apart, prepared to let the beast kill him, and Kellin was forced to hear every second of it._ _

__“Vic!” Kellin screamed, over and over as he yanked against the handcuffs. The sharp metal dug away at the flesh of his wrists until he was bleeding, sending bright red droplets down onto the pillow. “Just hold on!”_ _

__His plea was echoed by a loud cry from Vic that ended abruptly—choked off to silence while the dog’s yapping turned to deep growls._ _

__“Vic?” Kellin whispered, stilling his motions to listen harder. Vic had never gone completely silent that way before. Usually Kellin could still hear him moaning in pain or pleading for Eddie to spare him, but this time it was only Eddie’s raucous laughter and the dog’s ferocious snarling._ _

__Soon even those sounds faded and Kellin heard the cellar doors slam closed—the following silence nearly deafening to him._ _

__When he heard Eddie throw open the front door to the house, Kellin dropped down against the headboard, cowering even though he knew he couldn’t hide. His heart was beating so hard and he couldn’t shake the awful thoughts brewing in the back of his mind._ _

__Vic was dead. Eddie let the dog kill him and it was now Kellin’s turn to pay for his attempt to escape._ _

__“Boy do I got a surprise for you,” Eddie boomed as he walked through the living room, his steps deliberately heavy and slow—building more suspense as he neared the bedroom. When he appeared in the doorway, he had his hands behind his back and was smirking an evil, cruel smirk. “Do you want it?”_ _

__“Wh-where’s Vic?” Kellin asked, blinking back tears. He didn’t want to show himself to be weak in front of Eddie anymore. He had to be strong. He _had to._ _ _

__Eddie just laughed at him and came closer to the bed._ _

__“Where’s Vic? _Where’s Vic?”_ He jeered, suddenly pulling out what he had hidden behind his back. It was Vic’s shirt—a baggy tank top with a faded flag print—stained in blood and left in tatters. “You take a look at this and tell me where you think Vic is.”_ _

__Eddie threw the shirt and Kellin who pulled backwards—yanking at his handcuffs—as the shirt struck him face. The coppery scent of blood clogged his senses and his feeble attempt at acting tough faded fast into sheer panic._ _

__“Vic?” Kellin whimpered, shaking hard as he stared at all the blood. Much of it was collected around the collar of the shirt—as though the hound had ripped Vic’s throat out._ _

__That was why the screams went silent. That was why Kellin couldn’t hear Vic crying anymore through the floorboards._ _

__He was dead._ _

__Vic was dead._ _

__“I hope you’re happy with how things turned out,” Eddie said, coming over to the bed and grabbing Kellin by his hair. He forced Kellin’s head back, making their eyes meet. Kellin tried to stay firm, but in the end had to look away—haunted by the coldness in Eddie’s gaze._ _

__He’d killed Vic. He’d watched Vic die and still showed no empathy or remorse…_ _

__“You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself, you know? Vic told me he _begged_ you not to go, but you went anyway, didn’t you? You were going to leave him here just to save your own sorry ass.”_ _

__“I was going to get him help!” Kellin said, shaking his head as hard as he could in hopes of getting Eddie to loosen his grip. “I wasn’t going to let him die!”_ _

__“Oh, shut up!” Eddie snapped, releasing Kellin’s hair only to punch him—slamming his head into the sharp corner of the headboard. Kellin whimpered and slumped down against the mattress, his head laying dangerously close to Vic’s soiled shirt._ _

__It taunted him. It horrified him…_ _

__Vic warned him of what would happen if Kellin ran. Vic tried so hard to convince Kellin to stay and wait for a better opportunity, but Kellin didn’t listen. He’d been selfish and reckless and he’d gotten his only friend killed. He’d killed the only person who could keep him sane in this hell._ _

__“Now you just hold still,” Eddie hissed, grabbing Kellin by the hips and yanking him into position. Kellin resisted at first, but caved once his jeans were pulled down to his knees._ _

__There was nowhere for him to go—no one to save him and, now, no one to comfort him afterwards either._ _

__Kellin moaned in agony as Eddie forced his way inside, barely using any lubricant at all in his haste. The pain was immense, only getting worse and worse with each powerful thrust of Eddie’s hips._ _

__He never realized how dependent he’d become on Vic’s presence until it was gone. Before he’d hated having Vic next to him—listening and watching the violation take place. But now Kellin was left feeling alone. Completely and utterly alone. There was no one to hold his hand, or whisper that he’d be alright…_ _

__There was no one. He had no one on this earth left but Eddie._ _


	5. Chapter 5

Kellin stared down at the shirt in his hands—Vic’s shirt—due to be washed with the rest of the week’s clothing. Vic used to be the one who sorted clothes on laundry day, but now Vic was gone and had been for three days.

The pain hadn’t gotten any more bearable, not even when Eddie “tried” to be gentle. Life here was hell. Life here without Vic was something worse… In the mornings he was forced to take care of all of Eddie’s needs alone—making breakfast, packing lunch, helping him _dress_ —then he spent the rest of the day handcuffed to Eddie’s bed in complete and utter silence. No Vic to keep him company. No Vic to brush his hair or bring him water and snacks. No Vic to prattle on and on to him about the “old days” when he’d been free… The nights were even worse, bringing their own tortures and more of the same, endless loneliness. 

Kellin lifted the old t-shirt to his nose and sniffed it, taking in the very last traces of Vic’s scent he’d ever get. He missed Vic so much… He missed laying with him in the bed, just talking for hours when Vic was taking a break from chores. 

Kellin looked over his shoulder, gazing past the doorway to the tiny, cramped laundry room to look at Eddie who was sat watching television. While his attention was still focused on the police drama playing out on the screen, Kellin rolled Vic’s shirt into a tiny ball and fitted it into the small gap between the washer and dryer. 

If Eddie found it, Kellin would surely earn himself a beating, but it was worth it—Kellin felt—to have one last thing to connect him to Vic. Sure, Vic’s old clothes remained, but they were all garments Kellin wore as well. He had nothing of his own except the outfit he’d worn when he’d been taken—and those had been ripped to tatters by the dog. 

Once the shirt was hidden away, Kellin returned to his task of loading the soiled clothes into the washing machine. 

“You’re taking forever in there. Didn’t anybody ever teach you how to wash clothes or did your mommy do it for you?” Eddie called, even his insult sounding halfhearted. He seemed to miss Vic as well—and took out his frustrations of Kellin’s flesh. 

The day after Vic died was the worst. Kellin had been raped, choked, and beaten so many times he’d lost count. Eddie had shouted the entire time about how Kellin had to face what he’d done and pay for it. Vic didn’t deserve what he’d gotten—Kellin did. It was all Kellin’s fault.

Over and over and over.

Eddie had no comprehension of how _sorry_ Kellin was. He couldn’t even convince himself that it was a good thing Vic was gone—that he wasn’t suffering anymore. He’d suffered to death…

Vic had suffered to death and it was all Kellin’s fault…

“Ain’t you done yet!?” Eddie snapped.

“Almost, Sir,” Kellin said, the ‘sir’ coming out strained. He let out a soft sigh as he heard Eddie get up from the couch, knowing he was about to be struck.

He was always struck…

“What the hell’s the matter with you? Can’t you figure out how to work the damn thing?”

Kellin shivered when he felt Eddie’s hand on his back, the gentle touch making him even more anxious than the slap he’d been anticipating.

“Look—all you have to do is select the load size. See? You’re doing, what….the colors?”

“Yes, Sir,” Kellin said, his voice choked. 

“Okay. Then you pick light load, right? Use that for these and the whites, then wash the denim on heavy load. Wash it on cold because you don’t want the colors to bleed, alright? Think you can take it from here?”

Kellin was still trembling as he nodded his head ‘yes,’ even though Eddie was going back to the couch without delivering a single slap or insult. 

Kellin finished loading the washer, then set to cleaning up the trash in the living room. 

“How long’s it been, Kell?” Eddie asked as Kellin kneeled before him, picking up cigarette butts off the carpet. 

“S-Since…? Since what?”

“Since you put Vic in the cellar? How long’s it been?”

“Three days,” Kellin said, tears biting the backs of his eyes almost instantly. Shame filled him yet again and he bowed his head and returned to picking at the ashes stuck in the rug.

“Three days… Probably ought to get rid of the body before it starts stinking up the place, don’t you think?”

A sob forced its way out of Kellin’s throat and he set down the plastic bag he’d been using to collect the trash in the room. He couldn’t take any more of this. He was _sorry._ He’d do anything in the world to bring Vic back, but it wasn’t possible. 

“Throw that shit in the trash then run a bath. It’s going to take a lot of water to wash all the blood off,” Eddie said, getting up from the couch with a loud grunt. When Kellin didn’t move, he grabbed him by his forearm and yanked him to his feet, dragging him to the kitchen so he could throw away his bag of garbage. “Do as I said. And don’t forget that Bailey’s still out in the yard. You try running off while I’m downstairs, you’re going to end up with Vic. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Kellin said, trembling as he followed Eddie’s instructions. He threw away the bag of trash, then went into the bathroom to run a bath for Eddie… To wash the blood off once he was done dismembering and disposing of Vic’s body—his beautiful, perfect body…

After he heard the cellar door screech open, Kellin covered his ears and sank down onto the tile floor beside the tub. He heard a loud thud coming from the cellar despite his efforts and let out a low cry of fear. Was that an ax? Did Eddie keep an ax down there just for the purpose of disposing of toys he got tired of? 

How could he _do_ that? How he could _kill_ Vic and not show any remorse? How could he stand down there and chop him into bits? He’d kept Vic for _years,_ didn’t he feel anything for him?—Any pity? Any sympathy? Any _love_ at all?

Kellin had known Vic for only a handful of weeks and yet he could barely go thirty seconds without thinking about him. How could Eddie stand down there and cut him apart?

Kellin heard another loud thud and screamed, horrible images flashing through his brain. Eddie wielding the ax, bringing it down over and over on Vic’s lifeless, pretty corpse. 

“Move your ass!” 

Kellin heard the words mere seconds before Eddie’s foot collided with his hip—causing Kellin to look up and drop his hands from his ears. 

Eddie was standing over him, a bloodied, half-naked body in his arm. 

“Vic?” Kellin whispered, moving out of the way and staring as Eddie stooped down and dropped Vic’s body into the tub. As soon as the body hit the water, Kellin heard a quiet gasp over the splash. “Vic?—Vic!?” Kellin scrambled back over to the tub, daring to push against Eddie in order to reach out and touch Vic’s shoulders.

His skin was covered in smears of dried blood and filth from the cellar floor, but he was alive. His eyes were even open. Kellin could feel Vic’s soft breaths on his hand as he reached out to stroke his friend’s cheek—rough with dirt and stubble. 

Kellin could barely comprehend what was happening—only able to stare and call Vic’s name over and over. He felt as if he were in a dream—the very best dream—and that, at any moment, it could all fade away. He was so happy, so _relieved._ Vic’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, but they were open. His body was bruised, cut up, and bloody, but he was still in one piece—his heart still beating.

“Clean him up, then get back to the laundry. I want that shit done tonight.”

Kellin couldn’t even manage a “yes, sir.” He was still staring at Vic who slid further and further down into the tub. 

“N-No, Vic—you gotta sit up,” Kellin said, pushing up a bit on Vic’s shoulders. For the first time, Vic broke his stupor and turned his eyes down toward Kellin’s hands. “I’m so sorry for all of this, Vic. I-I promise I won’t let it happen again, okay? We’ll get you better. I _promise.”_

Kellin wiped at the blood congealed on Vic’s left arm, then scanned the rest of him with his eyes. He remembered the shirt Eddie had brought upstairs after he’d let the dog attack Vic in the cellar. There had been copious amounts of blood on the sides and especially near the neck—yet there weren’t any cuts or scratches at all on Vic’s throat. 

He had a large bite on his side and several smaller ones on his arms and shoulders, but otherwise he seemed to be okay. He was woozy and unresponsive to Kellin’s touches, but he was still breathing. 

Kellin quickly grabbed a washcloth and the bar of soap from the corner of the tub and set to work. He started wiping at the dirt on Vic’s face, careful not to get the cloth or suds too close to his eyes. Vic turned away from him at first, but didn’t seem to have enough energy to really fight him. As soon as Kellin had wiped away the blood from around his mouth—gently dabbing at his split lip—Vic slumped over against the wall of the tub and stayed there. 

Kellin continued to rattle off apologies as he worked through the blood that had clotted on Vic’s right side, close to his hip. It seemed to be the worst of the bites and Kellin was sorry to see that it was infected—badly. He was going to have to look in the first aid kit for the antibacterial ointment, but he wasn’t convinced that that would be enough. 

He needed medication and it was doubtful that Eddie would get them for him… 

When the mashing machine gave a loud beep, signaling the end of its cycle, Kellin drained the tub and promised Vic that he’d be back in a moment to finish getting him washed and rinsed. Vic opened his eyes and looked at Kellin silently—his expression unreadable. 

Kellin worked as quickly as he could to put the sopping wet clothes into the dryer and start another load of whites—making sure the water was still cold so as to still have hot water for Vic’s bath. 

Eddie didn’t move from the couch as Kellin moved around the house—acting as though he didn’t exist. He didn’t even bother to make sure Kellin had worked the dryer properly.

Kellin grabbed the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink before he returned to the bathroom. Vic still lay against the wall of the tub, but was absently picking at a scab on his arm. 

“No—Don’t do that,” Kellin said as he returned to his spot on the bathmat. “It’ll be okay now, I promise. I won’t do anything to get you in trouble again, okay?”

Vic sighed and let his hands fall to his sides, too tired—it seemed—to speak or even try to respond. 

Kellin waited until he heard the washing machine click as it changed its cycle, no longer pulling from the water supply so there would be enough pressure to refill the tub. He washed Vic’s hair as the tap was still running, cupping his hands under the fresh water to catch enough to rinse away the shampoo. All of the water that collected in the basin was stained with dirt and blood—a foul, reddish brown color.

It took three tries to get the water to stay clear since Vic couldn’t support his own weight in order to shower. Once Kellin had washed all of Vic’s wounds, getting them as clean as he could with a washcloth and soap, he started patting Vic down with a dry towel while he still sat in the tub. 

After he was dry, Kellin helped Vic to get up from the floor of the tub to sit, instead, on the edge so he could bandage the deep puncture wounds on his side after applying all of the antibiotic cream he had. Vic shuddered as Kellin’s fingers wiped over the wounds, but he hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. 

Eddie appeared in the doorway with a pair of sweatpants and one of Vic’s few long-sleeved shirts in his hands. 

“Get him dressed and put him to bed. Then make me something to eat.” He tossed the clothing at Kellin who managed to catch them before they struck the wet ground.

Kellin helped Vic to pull on his shirt, but when it came time to step into the sweatpants, Vic swatted him away and stood up on his own—pulling the grey pants up to his hips and tying the string. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Sighed in relief as he stretched out on the bed, buried under all the blankets and his head rested against the soft pillow. His side hurt and his arms and back were sore, but laying down on the lumpy mattress felt like heaven compared to the hard cellar floor. As angry as he was at Kellin, too, it felt wonderful to have the boy tending to him. 

He had toweled Vic’s hair dry and was now sat behind him on the bed combing through it gently. It was a waste of time since Vic was just going to roll over and get it tangled again—the long, thin strands prone to tangling for no reason at all let alone as he moved during sleep—but Kellin seemed so happy to be doing it. Twice the boy had leaned down and kissed Vic on his temple, trying so hard to show how happy he was that Vic was back with him.

Apparently the prospect of being left alone with Eddie was more terrifying to Kellin than he’d ever imagined when he’d been planning to run off and leave Vic behind. He knew better now, didn’t he? Without Vic to keep him company—coddle him and tell him stories to distract from their awful life—Kellin had to confront the awful reality that Vic had been coping with for years: Life with Eddie was hell. Pure, unadulterated hell.

And life in the cellar was even worse…

Eddie had let the dog bite him three times—once in the side and twice on his arms—and then used the blood to paint his shirt. He told Vic his intention to use the shredded garment to terrorize Kellin and teach him a lesson. Vic had gotten to lay below the floorboards and listen to Kellin cry over him, and get beaten, and cry more when Eddie was gone.

Vic thought to call up to Kellin from the cellar, but Eddie told him not to spoil the surprise. Vic hoped that meant he would be brought back upstairs—back into the sunlight—before he died. That command kept him hopeful, as did the bucket of water and bowl of dog food Eddie left for him. 

Vic drank the water but he refused to eat the kibble no matter how much his stomach hurt. He wasn’t an animal… He might die like one, but he was no dog. He let himself grow weaker and weaker, but knew it had more to do with his torn up side than his hunger—even though his hunger was still prominent.

Kellin would feed him soon though. He kept whispering so, at least. 

“If Eddie won’t let you eat, I’ll just sneak something okay? I’ll take care of you. I’m so sorry for this. I’m sorry…” Kellin just kept saying it over and over as he worked the comb through Vic’s damp hair. 

His voice was keeping Vic awake and it irked him a bit, but as soon as he would muster the strength to swing his arm back and strike Kellin—trying to get him to go away—he’d remember that he didn’t want left alone. 

He’d been alone too long in the cellar to chase away Kellin, no matter how irritating his voice was.

Kellin would sigh and start to get up from the bed and Vic would be compelled to reach out for him and snag the hem of Kellin’s shirt, pulling him back. 

The cycle would begin again every time Kellin would pull on a knot in Vic’s hair a little too hard with the comb. Vic would instinctually snap at him, then pull him back to the bed either by the hem of his shirt or with low whines. 

“I know you’re mad at me…” Kellin said quietly. “You have every right to be. I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry… I won’t do it again. I won’t risk you getting hurt like this again.”

He leaned down and kissed Vic’s temple again—the affectionate gesture just making Vic more frustrated. He wanted to _sleep._ He wanted Kellin’s company but he wanted left alone. The talking, the _kissing,_ it just kept distracting him. 

He was glad Kellin had learned his lesson, but it didn’t make the pain any easier to manage…

But they were stuck together forever under Eddie’s roof and holding a grudge wouldn’t get Vic anywhere. So every time Vic succeeded in pushing Kellin away, he caved and whined until Kellin came back and sat down again.

When the dryer—or was it the washer?—let out a loud bleat, Kellin said goodbye to him and pressed one last kiss to the top of Vic’s head. Vic tried to wait up for him, wanting him to come back and return to coming his hair, but the fatigue overwhelmed him and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

It was dark out when he was woken back up. Eddie had turned on the overhead light seconds after Kellin shook his shoulder and Vic flinched, anticipating an attack. Eddie had gone three days without Vic so now he was going to want to make up for lost time, wasn’t he? Regardless of how torn up and exhausted Vic’s body was.

“Eddie?” Vic whimpered, his voice cracked and shaking. 

“Relax. Kellin’s brought your dinner.”

Vic was still staring at Eddie, watching his every move as he went over to the closet and pulled out a leather jacket. Kellin sat down next to Vic on the bed and was smiling, holding a bowl of soup in his hands. 

“Now I’m going out for a beer run and to get your medicine. Anything else you want?” Eddie asked as he pulled on the jacket. 

Vic couldn’t think of anything. He was frozen in fear because if Eddie was leaving, did that mean he was going to be handcuffed? He was finally feeling relaxed and comfortable on the bed—able to move around. He didn’t want pinned. 

“Anything?” Eddie asked again, crossing his arms over his chest. “Last chance.”

“C-Can… Can I-I g-get th-throat…throat l-lozenges?” Vic stammered. It was a risk to ask for things, but sometimes it was riskier to reject his offers of generosity.

“What, your throat’s sore too?” Eddie asked, coming over to the bed. Kellin leaned out of his way and Vic struggled to hold still as the large man reached for him. It surprised him when the only touch that came was a hand feeling his forehead. “Yeah, you got a fever. Alright. I’ll get you some cold pills and some throat spray. We’ll get you better.”

“I made you soup,” Kellin said, daring to speak unprompted in Eddie’s presence. 

Vic looked down at the bowl, then back at Eddie.

“Eat your dinner. I’ll be back in an hour. And you two’d better behave. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Vic said, his voice hardly audible. 

“Yes, Sir,” Kellin said at the same time, his head bowed in shame. It seemed Eddie had finally broken his spirit, just as he had Vic’s those five years ago.

They both remained completely still as Eddie left the room, waiting until they heard Eddie’s car start outside. 

“It’s tomato soup,” Kellin said softly, extending the bowl toward Vic who sat up properly and took it into his hands. 

“Is it poisoned?” Vic asked, lifting the bowl to his nose and sniffing it. His nose was running and he barely had a sense of smell at all, but he really wondered if Eddie had made Kellin poison it and was truly out looking for a place to dump his body—as if the cellar wasn’t a good enough tomb.

“No!” Kellin said, sounding hurt and mortified. “It came out of a can, but that doesn’t make it poison…”

Vic said nothing, just lowered the bowl to his lap again and picked up the spoon. Typically when he made soup for Eddie, he would add herbs from the spice rack to make it taste better. Kellin, not knowing the first thing about cooking, left it plain. 

“Should’ve added the basil,” Vic mumbled.

“No one ever taught me to cook like you,” Kellin mumbled, scooting around on the bed until he was sitting cross legged by Vic’s knees. 

“My mom,” Vic said, taking another spoonful to his mouth. Even if it was bland, it was better than nothing—better than water and a hell of a lot better than dog kibble. 

“What?”

“My mom taught me how to cook… She had to learn a lot of recipes from my grandma—to keep my dad interested, you know?” Vic looked at Kellin who nodded wordlessly, obviously not sure what to say or how to act. “She made this…enchilada sauce. It was the best thing that every came out of our kitchen. I’d do anything to taste her food again.”

Vic shook his head against the memories and took another sip of the tomato soup. It never did any good to dwell on his past, especially when he knew he could never have those things again. His mother was gone. His father was gone. His life before was gone… All he had now was Eddie and Kellin. 

“Vic?”

Vic looked up at Kellin, not giving a verbal answer as he began to just drink the soup straight from the bowl. He was too hungry to waste time eating mouthful by mouthful. He was _starving._

“I’m really happy you’re okay…” Kellin said, as if he really thought ‘okay’ was having a gaping hole in one’s side while laying on a cellar floor for days on end.

“Can we just not talk about it anymore?” Vic said.

“I thought you’d died,” Kellin said.

“I wish I had!” Vic snapped. “Anything would be better than this!”

Kellin ducked his head and stayed quiet after that, only speaking up to offer to take Vic’s empty bowl back into the kitchen and to tell him Eddie ordered him not to serve Vic anymore food besides the soup. He could, however, drink water.

Vic accepted a cup of water, then nestled back down into the blankets. Kellin refused to shut off the light, afraid it would anger Eddie when he got home, and Vic had to settle for pulling a blanket over his head to block out the lights. 

Kellin laid down beside him, spooning him though Vic had a feeling it would make Eddie jealous when he did return. Telling Kellin that changed nothing. He stayed where he was, nuzzling Vic’s back between his shoulder blades. Why he was being so affectionate, Vic couldn’t understand. They’d been friends before—as good of friends as was possible in their living arrangement—but not like this…

Maybe it was Vic’s own fault. He was the one who’d kissed Kellin first back in the early days…

Eddie had saw and it had turned into a hellish nightmare, Kellin being hurt because Vic broke the rules. Kellin was punished because Vic got too attached.

Now Vic was frightened he would be targeted because Kellin was too attached. At the same time, however, his exhaustion was winning out over the fear. Eddie had already done his worst. So what if he added rape to the list tonight? There was no use in worrying or fighting. 

Eddie would do what he wanted. Kellin would do what he wanted. Vic didn’t care anymore…

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic woke up as he was rolled onto his back—someone grasping his inner thigh and forcing his legs apart. He whined, knowing it was Eddie and knowing he couldn’t fight. His head hurt, his body ached…

He hoped that if he just laid still, this would be over quickly and with as little pain as possible.

Vic was staring overhead at the light bulb when he heard Eddie’s voice, followed by a strong tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Go on, Kell. Put that pretty mouth of yours to work. Show Vic how much you missed him.”

Vic was still straining to make sense of what was happening when he felt a wet heat envelope the head of his cock. He gasped in surprise, but couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the unexpected touch. It was pleasant. It was better than anything that had happened to him since Eddie had taken him.

“Quit teasing!” Eddie’s cruel bark was followed by the sound of Kellin gagging—and Vic’s hips bucked as his entire length was engulfed. He could feel the vibrations of Kellin’s voice, felt his tongue struggling to stay over his lower row of teeth to avoid scratching Vic. “There you go. He’s been alone for days now—make it worth his while.”

Kellin was whining as he complied with Eddie’s demands, doing for Vic what he was frequently forced to do for Eddie.

Once the reality of it sank in, Vic finally turned his eyes away from the overhead light and looked down at himself. He watched, frozen as if by horror, as Kellin’s head moved up and down his length—his head pushed and pulled by Eddie who had his hand fisted in Kellin’s long hair. 

Vic bit his lip and let his head fall back on the pillow again, conflicted and woozy. He was trying not to think about the situation, but it proved impossible to ignore. He didn’t _want_ Kellin like this—not by force anyway, and definitely not with Eddie involved. 

He couldn’t help but moan, however, as Kellin’s hot mouth worked over his sensitive flesh. Every now and then Eddie would bark out another command or would pull Kellin back—allowing him a moment to breathe. 

It was during one of those breaks for air that Vic heard Kellin sob. It filled Vic with so much guilt and remorse, but there was nothing he could do to stop the torture for his friend. There was only one way for it to end, and that was to keep going. 

With Eddie watching him and with Kellin crying, it proved a challenge for Vic to reach to climax. He was still exhausted and half out of his mind from being trapped in the cellar, but he couldn’t detach from reality enough to enjoy the touches. His body responded—so unused to receiving pleasure of any kind let alone those of sexual gratification—but his mind stayed tormented until the very end. 

Eddie held Kellin’s head in place as Vic came, forcing him to swallow around Vic’s cock despite his gagging and desperate, frantic whines. He kept Kellin pinned for nearly a minute afterwards as well, enjoying the sounds of Kellin’s distress as they mixed with Vic’s heavy panting. 

Once he let Kellin go, the boy crawled away from him and ended up laying next to Vic—though he left a large gap between them on the mattress. Eddie wasted no time and got on the bed as well, not satisfied by watching. 

Kellin was sobbing when Eddie flipped him onto his stomach and started yanking down his jeans. Vic watched helplessly, trembling as Kellin started to scream. Eddie laughed at him—giggled in his own raspy way—as he forced inside. 

Kellin just kept screaming as he fisted his hands in the bed sheets. At first his cries were high-pitched, but they turned fast to low, throaty screams—deep growls. Vic slowly slid his hand across the blanket, trying to reach for Kellin’s hand. As soon as he touched it, Kellin jerked away from him. 

Vic stared at the space where Kellin’s hand had been, his chest growing tight. It was so cruel of Eddie to pit them against each other this way… Kellin would never forgive Vic for this, would he? Even if Eddie forced them both into it, he was going to hate Vic just as much…

Vic was terrified of what Eddie would make him do to Kellin when the time came.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Kellin was made to prepare breakfast and a packed lunch for Eddie on his own—as he had done every day that Vic was locked in the cellar—since Vic proved incapable of waking up. Kellin had tried shaking him when Eddie left the bed to get his shower, but Vic just wouldn’t move. His eyes flickered back and forth beneath his eyelids and he gave a soft moan, but that—aside from his soft breathing—was the only indicator that he was even still alive. 

Kellin worried that something had gone wrong in the night that caused his friend to go into a coma. He’d been in the cellar for three days, he’d been starved and terrorized—he had a gaping wound in his side that Kellin didn’t have the proper supplies to treat. What if he’d bled out as they slept?

But when he checked the bandages, he found them only slightly stained through with blood. Vic’s unresponsiveness had to be a result of fatigue alone—or so Kellin hoped. Vic had tried to reach for his hand the night before and Kellin pulled away, too angry over what he’d been forced to do to accept Vic’s affectionate touch. He really didn’t want his bitter refusal to be the last memory of him Vic ever had. 

“Now I suppose I can leave you loose today, can’t I?” Eddie said as he checked his lunch bag.

“Yes,” Kellin said, his head bowed in submission. He wasn’t going to run. He wasn’t going to risk getting torn apart by the dog again, and he wasn’t going to dare put Vic in jeopardy again. Never again…

“Not gonna try anything stupid?”

“No, Sir,” Kellin said. Eddie laughed and made his way to the door, his lunch bag in tow.

“That’s good. I’d hate to have to take your little friend down to the cellar again and skin him.”

“Please, don’t hurt him anymore,” Kellin pleaded, knowing that as long as he behaved Eddie would have no reason to waste one of his toys. 

“Behave yourself and I won’t have to,” Eddie said, slamming the door behind him as he left. As soon as Kellin heard Eddie’s car door slam, he hurried back to the bedroom and climbed onto the mattress next to Vic.

“Vic?” He shook him by his shoulder again, extracting the same, dazed groans that he’d gotten before. “Come on—he’s not home anymore. You’ve got to wake up. Vic?”

Kellin shook him a little harder and finally managed to get Vic to open his eyes.

He looked confused at first, his eyes bleary and out of focus, but after Vic blinked a few times he turned his eyes toward Kellin and stared.

“What?—What time is it?” Without turning his head, Vic began feeling around beside him on the mattress—feeling for Eddie who was long gone. “Where’s Eddie?”

“It’s okay. He went to work. It’s just you and me.” Kellin reached out to stroke Vic’s hair, trying to make up for his coldness the night before. Vic still seemed disoriented and shook his head a bit before turning toward Kellin’s hand and slowly rubbing his head against it. 

“Are you mad at me? About last night?” Vic asked, his voice soft—almost as if he wished to go unheard. 

“I’m mad at _Eddie_ for last night,” Kellin said, keeping his hand still—just letting Vic rest his head against it. It wasn’t Vic’s fault for anything that had happened the night before.

It was Kellin’s fault. He was the one who had tried to run away even though Vic warned him of the consequences. He was the one who had nearly gotten Vic killed. It was his own fault that Eddie got the idea to use Kellin for Vic’s pleasure instead of his own for a chance—though the sick man had certainly gotten more than a bit of enjoyment from watching.

“I tried not to… I don’t want you to hate me because of him,” Vic said, his voice still so soft. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Kellin asked, moving his hand in order to feel Vic’s forehead. It was warm with fever, but his skin was dry—no cold sweat on his brow to indicate anything too serious. “You’re really warm.”

“I feel cold,” Vic whispered. “My side hurt and my throat hurts… Did Eddie really buy medicine?”

“Yeah. It’s in the kitchen. I can get it for you.”

Vic nodded and Kellin stroked the other man’s hair one last time before getting off the bed to retrieve the medicine. Eddie had bought him an antibiotic cream, a throat spray, and allergy pills—absolutely nothing for his pain or the inflammation. No ibuprofen, no aspirin. Nothing. 

Kellin brought him water and the throat spray, unable to look too long at Vic’s disappointed expression. 

“I-Is there no…no Tylenol? No… No nothing?” Vic stammered, looking at the allergy medicine in disbelief. 

“I could look around the house for some. He has to have something, right?”

“Maybe…” Vic said, taking the throat spray and picking at the plastic seal. 

“I’ll go look,” Kellin said, hurrying out of the bedroom and starting his search in the bathroom medicine cabinet. The space was typically occupied by spare razors and shaving gel, packed with old packaging and band aid boxes. There were a few old prescription bottles with dates from over three years past on the labels, but none of them seemed useful. Sleeping pills, Viagra, and another allergy medicine. There was a single pill laying on the second shelf that may very well have been ibuprofen, but it was half melted. Kellin was about to give up hope when he found a small bottle of aspirin in the very back of the cabinet, buried behind a box of razors. “Vic?—I found some!”

He seized the bottle and hurried back to Vic, showing them to him and relishing in the look of relief on Vic’s face. 

“It’s just aspirin, but it should help.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Vic said, taking the bottle from Kellin and shaking three of the tablets out into his palm. He handed the bottle back to Kellin then popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them down with the water—cringing in pain as he did. Once he’d swallowed the pills, he returned his focus to the throat spray, coating his throat with as much of it as he could take. “Kellin?”

“Yeah?” Kellin had returned to his place on the mattress, sitting close to Vic but with enough space to keep the other man from feeling crowded. 

“How long did he keep me down there? I know it wasn’t that long, but…it felt like forever.”

“Three days,” Kellin said, unable to resist the impulse to reach out for Vic again—settling for tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “He told me you were dead… He showed me your shirt and it was all ripped up and bloody.” The memories were still fresh and part of him didn’t want to accept that Vic was alive. Eddie was never one to show mercy. Kellin could see him taking more pleasure in allowing Kellin to think Vic had survived, then killing him just for show. 

“I thought I was dead… It’s pitch black down there, Kellin. You don’t even know how _awful_ it is. It’s dark. It’s _cold._ It’s hell down there.”

“I won’t let him send you there again,” Kellin said, putting his hand on Vic’s knee. “I won’t do anything to put you in danger again. I promise.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me to get in trouble with him. He does what he wants, when he wants. There’s nothing we can do to stop him.” Vic finished his glass of water and settled back down in the bed, closing his eyes. 

Kellin couldn’t take seeing Vic like this. He looked so small and defeated, the tiny spark that had been in his eyes before now completely snuffed out. Eddie had completely broken him. 

“Do you want me to make you breakfast?” Kellin asked, rubbing Vic’s leg. He knew Vic needed rest, but he didn’t want him to go back to sleep. He looked dead when he slept and that was reality Kellin didn’t want to face again.

“No…”

“Are you sure? You need food. It’ll help the pills work.”

“Just toast or something then,” Vic said with a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired…”

Kellin brought him toast and more water, then left Vic to rest so he could tidy up the kitchen. The entire time he cleaned, he was struggling to think of anything he could do to help Vic feel better faster. There are old cans of soup in the cupboard that he can feed Vic for lunch, but he knew that if he gave him too much after he’d been starved it would just make Vic ill. 

The best Kellin could do was keep him warm and make sure his bandages were changed—and make sure he took more aspirin to fight the pain. As he washed the dishes, Kellin parted the curtain over the sink to look outside at the backyard.

The dog was digging up something in the corner of the yard and would occasionally lift its head from the ground to look around, but otherwise it was completely distracted.

Kellin dreamed that the dog would just keep its focus on the ground long enough for him to sneak outside and breach the fence. He could run. He could get help for Vic—real help. They could escape if not for that stupid animal…

Desperate, Kellin began digging through the cupboards again—seeking poison, looking for anything he could use to kill that animal so he and Vic could have a chance to get away. 

Eddie was cruel, but he wasn’t stupid. There was no rat poison, no insecticide, not even mosquito spray. All Kellin had was toilet cleaner, Windex, and bleach—things that would make any food he put it on smell like poison to the dog. 

There were thumb tacks in one of the drawers on Eddie’s file cabinet and Kellin toyed with the idea of breaking off the sharp points from their plastic beds and hiding them in a hot dog or chicken breast. Maybe the dog would eat it without chewing much and the sharp metal would tear its insides apart. 

If the dog didn’t die right away, it would at least get sick and Eddie might have to take it to the vet. But that was where the plan went sour. He’d just handcuff Kellin and Vic to the bed if he took the dog off the property. Then when he found out what Kellin had done to his pet, he’d torture them both. He’d probably make Vic eat tacks and kill him…

There was nothing Kellin could do to save them. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Things were quiet the first few night that Vic was back upstairs. Eddie was gentle the way he had been the first time he brought Vic up from the cellar after he’d kidnapped him. It was his idea of the honeymoon phase. There were still strict rules and expectations, but fewer beatings. Even Kellin was being treated with some shred of kindness.

He let Vic stay in bed for two days, then made him come out on the third night. He insisted they sit together “as a family” on the couch and watch movies. It could almost be considered peaceful. He kept one arm around Vic and one arm around Kellin, and would occasionally kiss one of them on the head or cheek. 

After a while, Kellin learned the trick to keeping Eddie in his affectionate mood. If Eddie went for a kiss on the cheek, all they had to do was turn their head and make it a kiss on the mouth. That simple gesture put Eddie at ease, made him believe that he had complete control over them—that he’d made them fall in love with him.

Vic cuddled closer to Eddie than Kellin dared, however. Kellin wasn’t in any way familiar with Eddie’s moods or the stages he took in dealing with his captives. The honeymoon phase was a rare and precious reprieve. Vic wished he were in better health so he could truly take advantage of it. This was the only time Eddie made an effort to be gentle during sex and Vic was almost sorry he was going to miss out on it.

Eddie did want him—either put off by all the bandages or out of empathy for Vic’s injuries—which meant he’d go to Kellin. And one wrong move on Kellin’s part would be the end of Eddie’s kindness. 

If he just submitted…if he just let Eddie have his way, the phase would last a day or two more. Vic was desperate for that. He didn’t think he could handle a beating with all of the injuries he’d already sustained. Kellin had helped change his bandages and keep his wounds clean, but the one on his side stayed red and enflamed no matter how much ointment Kellin put on it. Eddie insisted Vic just needed to wash it out more and refused to buy any extra medicine for him. After all, how could he get prescription antibiotics when he himself had no injuries?

“Eddie?” Vic said, nuzzling the man’s shoulder as gently as he could.

“What?—Don’t you like this movie? You want to put something else on?”

“No. No, it’s a good movie. I just…” Vic didn’t finish his sentence. He let it trail off into a soft sigh as he reached up to stroke the stubble on Eddie’s cheek. He could see, in his peripheral vision, Kellin looking at him with confusion.

“What?” Eddie asked, smirking as he reached over to stroke Vic’s inner thigh. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” Vic said, smiling as sweetly as he could manage. The beatings, the assaults, the time spent locked in the cellar bleeding in the dark, were all in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t show his resentment. He couldn’t show Eddie his fear and mistrust. 

“Me, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Vic said, leaning up to kiss Eddie’s chin.

Kellin turned away from them, glaring at the television though Vic couldn’t imagine why he was mad. Vic was almost certain Eddie was going to go for a blowjob, and Vic would be the one to do it. Kellin could possibly make it through the night untouched. 

“You just want more dinner, don’t you?” Eddie said, his expression going from playful to irritable in a matter of seconds. 

“Only if you’re the one feeding me, hm?” Vic proposed, daring to get close enough to nuzzle Eddie’s neck. “I missed you.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin stared at the television, trying his best to ignore what was happening next to him on the couch. He’d spent days tending to Vic to make sure he healed and that he was fed—all because Eddie had tortured him. Yet Vic was sitting in Eddie’s lap, kissing him and letting Eddie chew on his neck. They were acting like a drunk couple at a party and it made Kellin _sick._

How could Vic do this? How could he cuddle up to Eddie and start kissing him like they were lovers? 

Eddie had let a dog rip him apart—so why was Vic getting on his knees in front of him on the couch? Why was he _smiling?_ Why was he sucking Eddie’s cock like he _loved_ it? He was even _moaning,_ for God’s sake.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Kell? You getting jealous?” Eddie asked, slapping Kellin’s arm when he realized he didn’t have the audience he wanted. It wasn’t good enough for Eddie to have a victim pleasuring him—he had to have one watching it happen as well. “You want me to give you some attention, too?” Eddie asked, laughing as he squeezed Kellin’s thigh. 

Kellin hissed and stared at the television, willing himself away from this awful place. Eddie kept pawing at him and laughing, more humored by his unwillingness to participate than angered. How could he be mad with Vic’s perfect mouth wrapped around him?

“Vic, why don’t you give Kell some attention, huh?” Eddie pushed Vic off of himself and pointed toward Kellin.

“No!” Kellin snapped, pushing Vic’s hand away as soon as it appeared on his knee. He would probably get beaten for it, but he didn’t care. Vic wasn’t touching him. He didn’t care what Eddie would do. 

“Don’t be shy,” Eddie said, laughing as he grabbed the button of Kellin’s jeans and began forcing it open. 

“No!” Kellin snapped again, standing up and backing away from the couch. He would get beaten—or get Vic beaten on his behalf—but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if Eddie got mad. He didn’t care if Vic was staring at him with hurt and confusion staining his eyes. 

With nowhere for him to hide, Kellin went to the bedroom and sat down on the mattress, waiting to hear Eddie get up to come after him. Instead, he heard Vic murmuring to the psychopath. 

“Come on, Eddie. Aren’t I good enough anymore?” 

Kellin heard them kissing, then heard Eddie cooing at his slave before the sounds of Vic sucking him off filled the tiny house again. It was disgusting. Why Vic was willingly subjecting himself to that, Kellin didn’t even want to know. Maybe it was a survival instinct or maybe—Kellin feared—Vic really was in love with the man. Maybe all the stuff he said about being kidnapped was just a lie. What if Vic was in on it somehow? Maybe he and Eddie had been a couple before Eddie went insane. Maybe that was why he didn’t try to run away—because he loved Eddie. 

But that was ridiculous. 

Kellin shook his head and laid down on the mattress, covering his ears with his hands to block out the sounds from the other room. He should be grateful for Vic… He should be glad Vic was offering himself up for the night instead of leaving Eddie to turn his attention to Kellin. 

It just messed with his head to see Vic so _compliant,_ like he was happy to service Eddie. He didn’t like seeing Vic that way. He didn’t want to see Vic _raped_ again or beaten up, but he didn’t want him acting as if he liked Eddie’s attention either. 

He guessed that living with Eddie for five years would make anyone complacent to the man’s will. 

After a while, Kellin tried of covering his ears with his hands and settled for burying his head under the pillow Vic usually used. He closed his eyes and waited for Eddie to come to the bedroom to punish him. He knew it would happen sooner or later. The man wasn’t going to let Kellin get away with such a blatant act of defiance.

He expected Eddie to come in the room and beat him, so it came as a surprise when he felt a gentle hand rubbing up and down his back. 

Kellin shifted the pillow off his head and rolled over, staring straight into Vic’s nervous face.

“What are you doing?” Kellin asked.

“I came to check on you. Are you mad at me?” Vic asked.

“Mad?—I’m disgusted. What the hell was wrong with you?” Kellin asked, keeping his voice low. He expected Eddie to appear at any moment, but the man just didn’t come. 

“He’s being nice. We have to take advantage of that.”

“So you just sit in his lap and suck him off? He’s not you _boyfriend,_ Vic.”

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with you,” Vic said, his eyes filling with hurt. “If I didn’t do it by choice, he’d just force me—and _hurt_ me.”

“Yeah, well you don’t have to act like you love him,” Kellin said, knowing it was a pointless argument—not even sure what he was trying to prove. 

“Kellin…” Vic tried to put his hand on Kellin’s shoulder again, but Kellin jerked away from him. “Kellin, come on. I just didn’t want him to hurt you. I knew he’d want one of us tonight and—”

“Well don’t do shit on my behalf anymore! If he wants me, let him have me! I can take care of myself!” 

“Stop yelling at me,” Vic said, straining to harden his face against all of the hurt in his eyes. “You’re going to wake him up, then he _will_ hurt you.”

“What do you care?”

“Kellin! What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I don’t want to sit there and watch you suck him off—then have you try to do it to me. That’s disgusting! I don’t care if he tells you to do it. Don’t touch me after you’ve touched him.”

“Are you…are you _jealous_ now? What is this?” Vic looked like he was about to start crying and Kellin couldn’t handle that. Vic was bruised, his bottom lip was still marred with a scab, and his bite wounds still bled… He didn’t deserve to have Kellin snapping at him over stupid, childish emotions. “Kellin…”

“Just forget it,” Kellin said, laying back down with his back to Vic. His efforts to block the other man out didn’t work. Vic laid down next to him and folded himself against Kellin’s back, one of his arms hooking around Kellin’s waist. 

“Kellin?”

“What?” Kellin asked after a long time. He didn’t want this conversation to continue. He didn’t want Vic to get his feelings hurt anymore and he didn’t want to think about how pathetic Vic looked sitting in Eddie’s lap, straddling him and kissing him and letting Eddie chew on his neck.

“Do you… If you ever want me—I mean, after what he made you do for me the other night… If you ever want me to…to repay the favor sometime when he’s not home, I-I could do that.”

“What!?” Kellin snapped, rolling over and staring down at Vic who looked at him anxiously, chewing his split lip. 

“I-I just meant… You seemed mad about me and Eddie, I thought—I don’t know. I don’t know… Forget it.” Vic pulled away from him and got up from the bed slowly, clutching his side as he made his way back to the living room. Kellin heard him wake Eddie who groaned commanded Vic to bring him another beer. Always obedient, Vic went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Kellin laid in the bed listening to Vic’s footsteps and Eddie’s grunt of approval. 

“Didn’t want to go lay down with Kell, huh?” Eddie asked.

“I missed you,” Vic said in place of all the awful things he could have confessed. If he’d said Kellin was angry with him or Kellin had yelled at him, Eddie could’ve decided to take matters into his own hands. He would have easily come to beat Kellin for lashing out at Vic. But Vic said nothing about it. 

“You’re doing a lot of sucking up tonight.”

“No, Eddie…”

“Yeah you are. Don’t want back in the basement, do you?”

“No… But I like to be close. Like the old days. Don’t you remember?” Vic started murmuring in a voice too quiet for Kellin to hear. It was something about being held and feeling wanted. He was acting, again, as if he and Eddie were a couple.

Was that how things were going to go from now on? Both of them just suffering through Eddie’s abuse in hopes his anger stalled out for a day or two so they could all play house? Kellin didn’t want to live like that.

He was starting to get the sense that living at all—even for the sake of survival—was just a waste. There was no escape, just torture. There was no affection from Vic, just the same tired gestures Eddie had beaten into his brain. He didn’t come to Kellin because he liked him, he came because he wanted companionship and thought sex was the best way to keep it…

That’s all it could possibly be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is my favorite. I hope you're all as excited as I am! Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter <3 I hope you enjoy!

Vic was nervous. Kellin hadn’t exactly been avoiding him (that proved impossible in Eddie’s tiny house), but he’d been distant since Eddie’s foray into the honeymoon phase had begun—especially after the blowjob on the couch fiasco. He still didn’t know why it had made Kellin so angry or why that anger was directed at him, but nothing he’d tried to do seemed to help. 

He’d even offered up himself only to have Kellin shoot him down…

In fact, that offering seemed to be what made Kellin, well… _hate him._

Eddie’s phase ended as abruptly as it had started and the beatings returned with no regard for Vic’s injuries. It was back to the way it was before they’d tried to escape—only Kellin wasn’t with him anymore.

Kellin avoided him, wouldn’t look at him, would barely talk to him at all during the day. Vic had hoped the silent treatment would stop in a day or two, but it didn’t. Kellin didn’t want to be associated with him let alone be friends. 

It broke Vic’s heart and Eddie fed on the pieces of his destruction. Kellin showed no empathy, showed no signs that he noticed anything at all when Eddie would start his assaults. Vic would be getting raped on the bed beside him and Kellin would be gazing overhead at the ceiling looking grateful that it wasn’t his turn. No more attempts to hold hands. No whispered, consoling words.

Nothing. 

Vic was alone in this with Kellin trapped in the same house with him—barely more than a bystander at this point—and he felt like he was dying. His wounds, for the most part, healed, but Vic wished they wouldn’t. He wished for death because this hell wasn’t bearable without Kellin’s support. He didn’t know how he’d gone without it before, but he couldn’t do it again. 

He needed Kellin. He needed Kellin to forgive him for whatever he’d done—for whatever he’d said. Deep down he really prayed that Kellin didn’t know how much this was hurting him, hoped it was something in Kellin’s own head that made him so distant and not something Vic had caused. As it was, he was making Vic wish he’d died in the cellar and those thoughts—those dark, cold thoughts—were not ones he wanted to have again. 

He didn’t want to die in Eddie’s house, not by Eddie’s hand or his own. He didn’t want his corpse buried or burned somewhere his family could never find him—someplace even God couldn’t find him. But what choice did he have? The suffering was unbearable. The loneliness was suffocating him…

“Kellin?” He pleaded, coming up behind the boy who stood at the sink washing dishes.

“What?” Kellin asked, not looking up the plate he was scrubbing.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Vic confessed. He wanted to put his arms around Kellin the way he might have before. They used to hold each other all the time. It was the only gentle touch he received in the house and he longed for the comfort. He wanted Kellin to turn and hold him and tell him it was okay, even if it wasn’t. 

He just didn’t understand why this kept happening to him—why he could find people to love who might actually love him, only to ruin it and have all of his attempts at affection end up scorned. Friends in high school, girlfriends he’d had… Why? He thought it would be different here with Kellin—they were both Eddie’s prisoners and knew each other’s pain so well—but it wasn’t. It was all the same. 

“Do what?” Kellin asked, his tone as disinterested as it always was when Vic spoke to him and he felt compelled to answer. 

“Kellin?” Vic pleaded again.

Kellin sighed and turned away from the sink, letting the plate he’d been scrubbing sink into the soapy water. 

“What?” He asked.

“Please talk to me. I-I don’t know what I said to make you mad, but I’m _sorry._ Please, Kellin. Please—don’t do this anymore. I can’t take it. You’re all I have in this place. Can’t you see that?”

“Vic… Stop.” Kellin just looked tired. No empathy or pity, just fatigue. 

“You have to tell me what I did. We can fix this.”

“You didn’t _do_ anything!” Kellin snapped, a spark finally lighting up his eyes. “I’m just trying to make sense of this place, alright? I’m trying to figure out you and Eddie and how this whole fucking nightmare is supposed to go.”

“But you won’t _talk_ to me anymore. I miss you, Kellin.”

“Yeah, like you miss Eddie when he’s out of the house—like you tell him every time he comes home.”

“I tell him that because I have to! I don’t _have_ to say anything to you if I don’t want to! Kellin, I’m in love with you—you can’t keep ignoring me. It’s killing me.” Vic squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to cry. He knew he sounded insane, knew that outside of Eddie’s house he would be perceived as needy and desperate, but he had pride. Not much, but enough to resist falling into complete hysteria, unprovoked, in front of Kellin. 

“Vic… You’re still sick. You don’t know what you’re saying,” Kellin said, his voice becoming far too gentle far too fast. He was just trying to appease Vic, not really listening or empathizing. “You should lay down—get some more sleep.” He put his hand on Vic’s shoulder and tried pushing him toward the bedroom, but Vic resisted.

“I’m not _crazy._ I have feelings. Eddie can’t control that. He can’t _beat_ that out of me.”

“You don’t _love_ me. You don’t even know me. Outside of this house—”

“We have _everything_ in common,” Vic interjected, desperate to make himself heard. It couldn’t get any worse than this. Kellin already ignored him, already thought he was insane. He had nothing less to lose and everything to gain if Kellin would just _listen._ “We like the same bands, we both love music. I was going to be somebody—you were about to be somebody. Outside of this place, we could’ve been in bands that played together… We—We could’ve spent time together at parties. There’s so much we could’ve done outside of this place. That we can _still_ do if we get out of here.”

“Vic—Just stop. Stop already! We can’t get out, and even if we did, you don’t _love_ me like you keep thinking you do. You had _girlfriends_ back then. Not boyfriends, _girlfriends._ You’re not ‘in love’ with me. You’re confused.”

“No, I’m not. Maybe… Maybe it is because we’re here. Maybe if this never happened, we never would’ve even met. But this is a real place—this is a nightmare, but you’re the only good thing that’s come out of it.”

“And I get that. Okay? I know. This house… _Eddie._ Everything that’s happened would be ten times worse if you weren’t here with me, but there’s no _point_ in loving me—in ‘being in love’ with me.”

“How can you say that?” Vic asked. It hurt worse than any rejection he’d ever faced before. It was Kellin telling him that, even though he was essentially ‘the last man on Earth,’ he still didn’t want him. 

“How can I—Vic! We’re not… It’s not like we can _date_ each other, alright? We’re fucking slaves in some psychopath’s house! Anything you feel toward me, _anything_ at all, is because of _him._ Because of what he’s done to you.”

“That’s not true,” Vic argued, unable to fight the tears anymore. One defiantly made it way down his cheek and he’d never been made to feel more pathetic in front of anyone—not even Eddie. 

Eddie could rule over his body. Eddie could force him to cry, force him to scream, force him to laugh if that was the mood he was in. But he couldn’t control what happened in Vic’s mind. Not in the ways Kellin implied. Eddie could make him fearful, make him remorseful, make him sorry he was even born—but Eddie couldn’t make him love anyone.

He loved Eddie out of necessity—because loving him made life in their hell easier than hatred—but he loved Kellin in a different way. He wanted to see Kellin smile because he wanted Kellin _happy,_ not because he wanted out of a beating. He wanted to hear Kellin sing and hear his lyrics. He wanted to know every part of him, not just what it took to make living with him bearable. 

“Vic, I… Shit.” Kellin sighed, looking back and forth between Vic and the floor. “Vic… What do you want to see happen between us? You want us to…to what? Play house when Eddie’s not home? Y-You wanna act like we’re a couple when there’s nothing keeping us together but a monster?”

“I want to escape with you, Kellin. I want to get out of here and still have you with me when it’s over. Maybe last time it didn’t work out, but we’ll get a chance and we’ll take it. The dog has to die eventually, right? We can get away.”

Kellin stared at him, shaking his head. 

“You’re crazy,” he said. “He’s made you go absolutely crazy.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic was crying and shaking, staring at him so expectantly. He wasn’t lying. He believed everything he was saying and Kellin was running out of excuses for refusing him. 

What was the point of denying him? They were all each other had aside from Eddie. Why not make the most of it? After all, it’d be a hell of a lot easier than ignoring Vic and trying to pretend he didn’t exist. Hearing Vic cry his name when Eddie was raping him had been one of the worst tortures Kellin had been made to endure—and it was his own doing. 

Vic just wanted his attention. He wanted affection and love—the same things Kellin wanted. They weren’t going to get it from Eddie and there was no one else in the house to supply it. Why deny him? Why make him stand there and cry like his world was ending when he wanted the exact same thing Kellin did. 

The only difference was Vic kept trying to make his hopes become reality. It was apparent now that he wasn’t confused either. He told Kellin over and over that he meant what he was saying. Maybe it wouldn’t be real, but it would be better than nothing at all. 

“You’re crazy,” Kellin said, watching Vic’s face tense with pain. “He’s made you go absolutely crazy.”

When Vic took the insult in, he merely bowed his head in submission. He wasn’t coming to Kellin because he felt obligated or because it was something Eddie wanted him to do. It was of his own will—his own wants and desires spurring him to act like a desperate fool. Eddie set the stage for them, but that didn’t mean he got to write the script. 

“But you know what?” Kellin asked, giving in to what he wanted—what he’d been fighting since Vic had propositioned him over a week ago. Vic was looking at him again with those huge, deep eyes and Kellin couldn’t take anymore. “You’re beautiful.”

He couldn’t suppress a faint smile when Vic’s eyes went wide—his entire face going slack in surprise. Kellin wished he had something better to say, but he couldn’t force the words “I love you” to pass his lips. Telling Vic he found him attractive seemed to suffice, however. 

At least, Kellin assumed so when Vic didn’t pull away from him when he drew closer. He leaned down and brushed their lips together, waiting for Vic to reciprocate before taking things any further. They’d kissed before in the early days, but it had always been Vic’s doing—and always very brief, mere pecks on the cheek or the corner of his mouth. Kellin wanted this to be different—to carry a different weight. 

When Vic finally snapped out of his thoughts and leaned in, their lips pressing together with intent. Vic’s eyes slipped closed and he stepped forward, putting his trembling hands gently on Kellin’s hips. 

There was no pushing or pulling—no twisting Kellin around to meet his whims. 

Vic was touching him so softly it was as if he feared Kellin would shatter under his fingertips—as if he thought the object of his affection was formed of delicate glass. 

Kellin was the one who made their kiss deeper—he had to be the one to make the move with Vic acting with such caution. He slid his hand around Vic’s neck to cup the back of his head, pulling him in as he suckled Vic’s bottom lip. Vic gasped and parted his lips, letting Kellin slip his tongue into his mouth. 

Even then, Vic remained cautious. His grasp on Kellin’s hips was still feather light, a pleasant reprieve from Eddie’s cruel touches, and he showed no signs of taking things any further. Kellin had to be the one to squeeze Vic’s hip and show him a little pressure wouldn’t hurt either of them. Still, all Vic did was clench his fingers briefly around the peak of Kellin’s hip as their mouths worked together. 

Kellin lowered his hand from Vic’s hip to the back of his thigh, squeezing it hard enough to get Vic to moan—breaking their kiss. Kellin’s heart was pounding, his mind racing yet still pleasantly calm. All he could imagine were things he wanted to do with Vic—things he wanted to hear Vic say to him. He didn’t want to take him to bed—he got enough of that from Eddie—but he wanted to hold him and kiss him breathless. He wanted to touch every inch of him and kiss away all of his marks and scars. He wanted to lay down with Vic beside him and watch the way Vic stared at him.

They didn’t have to fight it anymore, they just had to hide it from Eddie. Because if he saw a shift in their expressions of affection towards one another, he would be quick to use it against them. The very last thing in the world Kellin wanted right now was for Vic’s timid caresses to turn into bruising grips on his thighs under Eddie’s command, or for his own playful touches to be used as a means to torment Vic. 

That was what they stood to lose for taking things further than what they’d already had and what they’d entertained before. Eddie used their friendship to punish them. He could use their love to kill them—and easily.

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin lay on his back shaking, waiting for Vic to come back with the bandages. Before he left for work, Eddie decided to bring his knife into the bedroom and had carved three lines across Kellin’s stomach. He’d laughed as the blood bubbled up, laughed as Vic stared crying, laughed as Kellin slipped into shock. He kept taunting him, raising the knife in his fist and making as if to stab him—only to stop with the knife a few centimeters from his gut, or his throat, or his eyes.

Eddie made himself late for work he’d enjoyed his game so much. He promised Vic would pay for it when he got home, too, as if his slaves were to blame for his own sick ideas. Kellin’s first words after Eddie slammed the door in departure were apologies to Vic, so overwhelmed with fear over the prospect of having to watch Vic being tortured all night. 

“It’s okay, Kellin. Just calm down,” Vic said, shushing him as he placed a damp cloth on Kellin’s bleeding stomach. “They’re just scratches, see? The bleeding’s almost stopped on this one. You’ll be okay.”

Kellin refused to look down at the marks across his abdomen. The blood made him panic and he’d just gotten back his ability to control his breathing.

“There… That feels better, doesn’t it?” Vic said, his voice a soft hum as he dabbed at Kellin’s lacerations. “I’ll take care of you. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Vic gently and patiently cleaned up Kellin’s wounds, applying antibiotic ointment and bandages. After he was all patched up, Vic helped Kellin to pull on his shirt and get dressed. 

They made their way to the living room where Kellin laid on the couch, watching uselessly as Vic cleaned up the space. When Vic started doing laundry, Kellin made himself get up from the couch to go help him, ignoring it when Vic kissed him and told him to lay back down.

“I want to help you,” Kellin murmured, kissing Vic’s ear. “I can help.”

“Well…yeah, but you’re hurting and I want you to rest. You can help with dinner.”

“Vic, let me help. Nothing’s broken. I fold laundry.”

“Okay,” Vic whispered, smiling sadly. “If you get hungry, just let me know. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Kellin didn’t answer. He leaned down and started taking clothing from the basket and sorting them—tossing the whites into the washing machine.

Vic stayed close to him, occasionally stroking his back or trying to steal another kiss. A week had passed since they’d agreed to share their affections. Things in the home were no more bearable or unbearable than they had been, but having Vic fawning over him every second that they were alone was better than nothing. 

Kellin had noticed right away the difference in how Vic treated him as opposed to how he treated Eddie as well. It stifled that jealous fire that had been in his chest when he’d watched Vic climbing all over Eddie. It was different when Vic sat on his lap as opposed to Eddie’s. With him, Vic wasn’t faking neediness and gyrating his hips.

With him, Vic was just happy to be close. He was affectionate and playful—everything Kellin would’ve wanted in a partner if not for the awful cloud of misery hanging over their heads.

Once the washer was loaded, Vic went about cleaning up the kitchen then made lunch for them while Kellin changed over the loads in the washing machine. 

“Burgers again, huh?” Kellin asked as Vic set the plate in front of him.

“Yeah, but I hid some extra cheese down in the crisper drawer before Eddie made his shopping list—so you’ve got extra cheese and extra bacon.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” Kellin said, laughing a little as he lifted the bun off his sandwich. Vic had piled it high with as many pilfered ingredients as he could manage—things Eddie would demand be left over for him if he knew they were in the fridge. Extra cheese, bits of sliced onion, and about five strips of bacon. “You just want to get me fat, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Vic said, kissing Kellin on the cheek as he sat down beside him at the table. “I’d still love you fat.”

“Oh no,” Kellin said, settling the bun back down.

“What?—You don’t like it?” Vic asked, sounding hurt. 

“No… It’s not that, I just… I got this awful image in my head, you know? Of us in the future and I’m one of those six-hundred pound people who can’t leave my bed and you just keep bringing me, you know, tacos and burgers and shit.”

“You know it, Baby,” Vic said, giggling to himself as he picked up his own burger and took a bite. 

“Well, if I’m the one who gets fat, you have to be the one who goes bald,” Kellin said, locking eyes with Vic as he took the first bite of his overflowing burger.

Vic’s eyes went wide and he set down his sandwich, horrified.

“No! I can’t lose my hair! I’ll have nothing left.”

Kellin laughed around his mouthful of food and leaned over to kiss Vic on the corner of his mouth once he’d swallowed. 

“You’ll still have your eyes,” Kellin suggested.

“Oh wow. That’ll really get the guys going.”

“All the ones who can look past the fact that you’re bald.”

“Jerk,” Vic muttered, kicking Kellin’s foot under the table. 

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive about your hair, sheesh.”

“Why do you think I wear my hats all the time?” Vic snapped. “So Eddie can’t see how thin it’s getting.”

“It’s not getting thin,” Kellin said.

“Yes it is,” Vic said, taking a larger bite of his burger, stuffing his mouth to discourage conversation.

“Vic…”

Vic just shook his head and focused his attention on his sandwich. 

“Vic, if you don’t look at me I’m going to steal _all_ of your hats.”

“Don’t you dare,” Vic snapped.

“I’ll do it,” Kellin threatened, trying to keep his face stern when all he wanted to do was bust out laughing. 

“It’ll be pretty hard for you to run from me with your stomach all cut up,” Vic said, his voice starting to get deeper as his tone became more serious. 

“I didn’t say I’d do it today,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s cheek again. “Don’t worry. You’re beautiful.”

“At least you think so,” Vic muttered, not warming up at all to Kellin’s touches. 

“You are,” Kellin said, nudging Vic’s foot under the table until his expression lightened up. “I like you better without the hats.”

“Why? They hold my bangs in place,” Vic said, reaching up to stroke his bangs as if he thought they may have crawled away when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Because your bangs get in the way of your face,” Kellin said, reaching over to push Vic’s hand away. 

“Stop,” Vic said, slapping at Kellin’s hand, his blows barely even enough to make noise let alone cause pain. “Don’t put your hand in my face—I’m trying to eat.”

“Yeah, but I wanna see your face. Come on—Vic! Please?” Kellin started laughing again he pushed back Vic’s bangs, causing his red snap-back to slide off his head and hit the floor. 

“Kellin!” Vic nearly fell out of his seat as he reached back, trying desperately to catch his hat before it hit the floor. Kellin watched him with a smile, taking in the way his eyebrows shot up, the way his hair spilled down in front of his eyes. “Come on, man!” 

Vic got up from his seat and grabbed his hat from the floor, going quickly into the bathroom to fix his hair. Kellin giggled and switched their plates while Vic was gone. If either of them deserved extra portions it was Vic. 

“Now I just look like a mess,” Vic said, coming back into the room with his hair tucked back strategically back into his hat—looking the same as he had before. 

“You look fine,” Kellin said, quickly stuffing his mouth with as much of Vic’s burger as he could before the other man reached the table. 

“Hey! Why—Why did you… Did you not like it?” Vic stared down at the swapped sandwich, looking so hurt Kellin started feeling bad for him. 

“I wanted you to have it,” Kellin said around a mouthful of burger. 

“But… But I made it for you—I saved all that stuff for you,” Vic said, lifting both of his hands to grip his head. 

“Yeah, and I want you to have it.”

“You didn’t like it?” Vic asked, slumping down into his chair and staring at his plate.

“It’s delicious,” Kellin said, setting down the burger in his hand in favor of grabbing the one he’d set on Vic’s plate. “Now take a bite, or I’m going to force feed it to you.” He pushed the burger to Vic’s lips and held it there until Vic finally took it into his own hands and bit into it. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Vic said, his mouth completely stuffed. “It is good.”

Kellin watched him eat and smiled. His stomach was still burning from his cuts and he doubted he’d even be able to finish the small burger Vic had originally intended for himself—though he was certainly going to try. It was better this way, even if Vic wasn’t exactly happy about it. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Vic’s feelings—truly hurt his feelings—and throwing up his cooking would definitely hurt his feelings.


	8. Chapter 8

Vic didn’t know why it was happening or how it had started. They’d been washing dishes together after lunch when Kellin decided to be a smart ass and spray him in the face with the sink hose. Vic had almost fallen over he was so taken aback, distracted by rubbing the water out of his eyes. He hardly had time to recover before Kellin sprayed him in the face a _second_ time—and just stared at him with those huge, ornery eyes, trying to fight a smile. 

“Oh? What?—What? I thought you said you wanted a shower?” Kellin kept teasing, going to spray him a third time before Vic reached out and smacked the hose out of his hand. “You didn’t want a shower?”

He went to grab the hose again, only stopped when Vic seized it first—and returned the favor, spraying Kellin full in the face with the warm water. 

He coughed and spluttered—then busted out laughing and wrestled with Vic to take hold of the hose, covering the entire kitchen floor and counter with water. Kellin managed to get the hose out of Vic’s hand, but instead of spraying him again, he just let it go—letting the hose coil back into its place beside the sink as he wound his arms around Vic’s waist. 

Kellin started kissing his neck while slowly rocking him back and forth, holding him. Vic was so surprised it took him a moment to start holding Kellin in return, hugging him and nuzzling his cheek. 

“I love you,” Kellin had whispered, so softly and slowly into Vic’s ear it was as if the boy were confessing a secret. Vic smiled and snuggled against him, their wet shirts sticking together and growing warm between them. 

Kellin pulled back in order to kiss him and Vic eagerly reciprocated, adding tongue before Kellin could beat him to the punch. That was where it all just went…insane. 

Before, Kellin would always refer to the two of them as “playing house” when they were affectionate, particularly if Vic started to act as if they were a couple—a real couple. He always said it with disdain and disapproval, as if Vic annoyed with his affections… They weren’t anything real, Kellin said, because of Eddie. It did no good to act like they were a couple, like this was their home, when Eddie wasn’t in the house to supervise. 

Yet there Kellin was, kissing him and professing his love. He squeezed Vic’s hips and pushed him back against the counter as their mouths worked together. Before long, both their shirts were off and Kellin was stooping down to kiss the scabs on Vic’s side left over from the worst of his dog bites. 

Then Kellin was on his knees and Vic was trembling, watching as Kellin stared up at him from the wet floor. 

“Can I?” He asked, rubbing Vic’s thigh gently. 

“I-I…I guess?” Vic said, so nervous yet so excited. He wanted Kellin. He _wanted_ to play house when Eddie wasn’t home. Pretending that they were real was the only thing that kept him sane. For the ten hours a day Eddie spent out of the house, Vic could pretend like his life was normal. 

“We don’t have to,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s knee before resting his cheek against it. “We could…go cuddle. I know you like that.” He had his bottom lip poking out a little bit, pouting though he was trying not to show it. 

“N-No, I want to, I… I just don’t like seeing you down there,” Vic had stammered.

“Oh?” Kellin asked, his eyebrows raising with intrigue. “What else did you have in mind?” He slid back up Vic’s body and kissed him on the lips again, pressing their hips together. 

Vic’s mind raced with possibilities—things he wanted, things he couldn’t dare do because they would leave evidence that Eddie could find—but all he could get himself to do was slide his hand down the front of Kellin’s jeans. Moments later, Kellin had his and Vic’s zippers down and had his hand in Vic’s boxers. 

He kept expecting it to go further, but once they started kissing they seemed locked in place. Kellin was stroking him and squeezing him and though Vic was trying to keep up, he couldn’t help but feel he was a letdown. Kellin had him moaning, but all Vic could get from Kellin were deep breaths in between their kisses. 

Vic tried all the tricks Eddie had drilled into his head, tried swirling his thumb over the tip, tried mixing up the speed of his hand—but Kellin still just kissed and sighed while Vic’s entire body felt electrified. 

“Get out of your head,” Kellin said, dragging Vic out of his thoughts. 

“I-I’m not—”

“You _are._ Relax, Baby. You’re with me,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s jaw. The whole time he spoke, he kept moving his hand up and down Vic’s length—still pushing Vic toward the edge. “You don’t have to worry so much. There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just me.”

He said that again and again. It’s just me—it’s just me. Kellin could tell Vic was treating him the same way he treated Eddie and that wreaked havoc on Vic’s mind the entire time. He didn’t know how to act with another man—only Eddie. Eddie who punished, Eddie who tortured…

“Vic?”

Vic could only hum in response, his face buried in Kellin’s shoulder as he struggled to match the pace of Kellin’s hand with his own. 

“Maybe it’d help you stay with me…if you said my name, huh? Will you do that for me?”

It was foolish to be shy in front of Kellin. They knew every inch of each other, saw each other in every compromising situation imaginable, yet Vic still blushed as he forced out Kellin’s name. On his second try, however, Kellin started moaning and even bucked into Vic’s hand. 

His name seemed to be the missing piece, and once Vic let it slip past his lips—again and again as he got drunk off Kellin’s moaning—everything else fell into place. He called Kellin’s name, Kellin whispered his, and they got each other off right there in Eddie’s kitchen. 

As soon as it was over, Vic nearly fainted—he was stunned and shaky, and terrified that somehow Eddie would find out. Eddie would know and it would be the end of them. He stared down at his chest, spattered in Kellin’s seed—then looked at Kellin. He didn’t know why he was now so nervous, and around Kellin of all people. Kellin who _loved_ him.

Kellin had had to guide him to the bathroom so they could wash up, but when Vic remained shaky, Kellin guided him into the bedroom and laid down with him. Kellin wrapped them both up in the blankets and rested his head on Vic’s bare chest—occasionally pressing a kiss onto his chin or jaw. 

Kellin was so perfect—so precious to Vic. He was too pure of a soul to be trapped in this Hell with Eddie…

“I have to get you out of here,” Vic said, squeezing Kellin as tightly as he could while his eyes remained focused on the digital clock beside the bed. In another two hours they had to start making dinner for Eddie. Soon, Eddie would be home and he’d pick one of them to torment. The night would end with one of them raped, one of them bleeding, both of them crying… “I _have_ to get you out of here.”

“Where would we go?” Kellin asked, his question startling Vic a bit.

_“Home,”_ Vic said.

“Your home?”

“And…and yours.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Kellin said, his voice distant. “I don’t want to be here, but…there’s nothing for me at my mom’s place. Just her and…that guy.”

“What guy?” Vic asked, looking down at Kellin who nuzzled his chest absently. “You never told me you didn’t—”

“I ran away. That’s how Eddie found me, I guess. I was sitting outside and he offered me a ride… I was fucking stupid. That’s exactly what they tell you not to do. You don’t act like an idiot and get in some old dude’s fucking car.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Vic said, cradling Kellin and holding him as tightly as he could. 

“I don’t want to talk about it… What about you? What’s at your house? You think your family would have room for me there?”

“Of course. Tons of room. You could bunk with me in my room, and Mom always cooks so much food so there’d be more than enough for you to get your fill.”

“What would she make? For dinner—what do you think she’d make if you walked in the door tonight?” Kellin asked.

The thought drew out the old ache in Vic’s chest though he tried to ignore it. He missed his family, he missed his brother and his mom—his dad more than anything. But he knew Kellin was just trying to find comfort in Vic’s memories, building up a fantasy in his head to keep him going. 

“Enchiladas, maybe,” Vic said, holding Kellin a little tighter. “Or burritos. Anything I’d ask her to make, I’m pretty sure.”

“I remember you said you liked the sauce she’d make—”

“The enchilada sauce, yeah,” Vic whispered as he nuzzled the top of Kellin’s head. 

“You think you could make it here?”

“Not for Eddie,” Vic said, shaking his head. “I could make it, but…not for him. And if we get the ingredients, he’s going to want it. I… I _can’t_ make it for him.”

“I wish you could make me breakfast pizzas. Man, I’d _kill_ for breakfast pizza.”

“If you keep talking about food, you’re going to make me hungry.”

“I’ll feed you,” Kellin said, tilting back his head in order to meet Vic’s gaze, a wily smirk twisting his lips.

“Yeah, I bet you would,” Vic said, looking at him with disapproval. 

“Only if you want me to,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s chin before settling his head back in a more comfortable position. “I’m going to take good care of you—anytime you ask.” Kellin snuggled into Vic’s side and let out a heavy sigh.

“Y-You… You don’t have to do anything for me,” Vic said, suddenly feeling himself start to tremble. “I’m not like Eddie; I-I don’t… I _won’t_ ask for—”

“Oh, shut up,” Kellin said, pulling himself further over Vic’s body until he was sitting on his hips, straddling Vic’s waist. “Eddie doesn’t own sex, he _uses_ it. We don’t have sex.”

Vic stared up at him, nervous with Kellin pinning him this way. He trusted Kellin, he really did, but having anyone in a position of power over him was terrifying. 

“We make _love,”_ Kellin said as he leaned down and captured Vic’s lips in a kiss. Vic, still shaking, kissed back—praying Kellin would leave it there. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to do anything to you. You know that.” He leaned back and smiled down at Vic before stroking his cheek gently. “You know that…”

Vic swallowed hard and stared at him. He wished he knew that… He wished he could believe that there was one person on this earth who wouldn’t hurt him. But if Eddie came home and told Kellin to rape him, Kellin would do it. He’d have no choice. And Vic would never be able to look at him the same way again. 

What if Kellin decided he liked it if Eddie made him take Vic by force? What if he, like Eddie, got off on the pain in Vic’s screams? What if Kellin—

“We’ve gotta get you out of here,” Kellin said, frowning as he continued to stroke Vic’s cheek. “You’ll believe me then.”

“I-I believe you, Kells,” Vic whispered. 

“You don’t, but that’s okay. I still love you,” Kellin said, leaning down to kiss him one last time before climbing off his hips and laying down beside him again. 

“I love you, too,” Vic said, staring overhead at the ceiling. 

“I promise I’m going to get you out of this place. I’ll die trying if I have to… I can’t stand to watch him hurt you anymore. It’s killing me, too.”

“I don’t want you to die for me,” Vic whispered. “If the time comes, I want you to get out even if I can’t. You’re young. You’ve got—”

“Nothing. I’ve got nothing outside of this place except you. If you’re not with me, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what he does to me.”

“Kellin, you’re _young.”_

“So what? So are you. But you’ve got a family.”

“I’m not that young. You’ve got so much more to live for than me. You were on your way to really making it in the music industry. I never even—”

“Knock it off,” Kellin snapped, his anger cutting Vic to his core. “You could be someone too. Just because you didn’t get the chance before he snatched you didn’t mean you couldn’t have made it. I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself that way _he_ talks about you. I don’t want you to believe all the shit he’s told you.”

“Kellin…”

“When I run—”

“Please, we can’t talk like this…”

“Listen to me! When I run, you’re coming with me! I won’t leave you here. Okay?”

“Okay, Kellin,” Vic said, submitting to avoid getting yelled at anymore. 

“Vic…”

“I said okay. It’s whatever… It’s whatever you want.”

“Don’t—Vic, don’t get upset. Come on…” Kellin kissed his cheek, but for Vic it made no difference. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Kellin kissed him and again and crawled back onto his chest, holding him even though Vic’s motions were half-hearted when he embraced Kellin in return. “Shit… Vic, I’m sorry. I just want us out of here, you know? I want to go home with you. I want a life with you…”

“I love you too,” Vic whispered, even though Kellin hadn’t spoken the words. Admitting his love seemed hard for the boy, but Vic could still feel it in his voice even when those three words were withheld. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Vic said, sighing and making himself kiss the top of Kellin’s head—just so the boy wouldn’t ask him again.

Kellin sighed deeply and nuzzled Vic’s chest. 

“I should go finish the dishes, shouldn’t I?” He asked sadly.

“Maybe,” Vic whispered.

“Sorry for spraying you in the face with the hose,” Kellin said as he pulled away from Vic and got up from the bed. “I know you hate it when your hair gets messed up. I won’t do it again.”

Vic sighed and closed his eyes, the stabbing pain returning to his chest. He couldn’t lay in bed after that. He got up and followed after Kellin, hugging him as tightly as he could while the boy washed dishes. Kellin sighed and relaxed against him, leaning his head against Vic’s on his shoulder.

“Your hair is getting long, Kells,” Vic whispered.

“Hm? You gonna cut it for me?”

“If Eddie wants me to… If _you_ want me to. I’m not very good at it, though.”

“Just don’t shave my head and I’ll still let you cuddle with me.”

“Never,” Vic said, smiling a little as he kissed Kellin’s neck. “Love your hair. It’s so soft.”

“You know what would make it even softer?”

“What?”

“If you left any conditioner for me when we shower. I swear you use a bottle a night.”

“I do not!” Vic argued, laughing as he buried his eyes in the crook of Kellin’s neck. 

“Yeah you do, but it’s okay. I like your hair more than mine.”

They stayed that way, cuddling gently as they did their chores, waiting for the inevitable moment their peace was disturbed by Eddie. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin peeked into the bathroom, wincing as he watched Vic gag over the toilet bowl. Eddie had beaten him the night before and Vic had been ill ever since. If he wasn’t throwing up, he had debilitating stomach cramps that nothing seemed to cure. Kellin was terrified that Eddie had really damaged him, though Eddie showed no signs of concern. 

“Hey, Vic? You okay?” Kellin asked, pushing the door open a little more. Vic hadn’t eaten since the beating and all he managed to throw up was water, yet Vic still hurried to flush the toilet and lean back from it when he heard Kellin call his name. “Vic?”

“I’m fine,” Vic said, wiping his mouth on a piece of toilet paper. 

“I don’t…think you are, Vic.”

“It’s just a bug. It’ll go away in a few days.”

Kellin shook his head and sat down at Vic’s side on the floor, handing him a glass of water that Vic was reluctant to take. 

“You got sick after he beat you up—it’s not a stomach bug.” 

Vic took a long drink of the water and looked at Kellin sadly. He was scared—Kellin could see it in his eyes. 

“He’s not going to take me to a doctor, Kellin. There’s nothing I can do… If it’s not a virus, it’s probably something that’s going to kill me—”

“Don’t talk like that. He doesn’t want you dead. He—He has to do _something_ that can help.”

“All I can do is wait,” Vic said, grabbing onto the sink in order to pull himself up onto his feet. Kellin wrapped an arm around him and helped support him as he walked to the couch. “And hope I get better before Eddie takes me out and shoots me like a fucking dog…or feeds me to the fucking dog. One or the other.”

“No one’s going to kill you,” Kellin said, guiding Vic down onto the couch. He kissed Vic’s forehead after laying him down, trying to play the role of a nurturing parent. He’d give anything to see Vic feeling better, but knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to help him…not while he was in the house at least. 

“My _stomach_ is killing me,” Vic whimpered. 

Kellin sighed as he sat down on the floor next to the couch. He leaned his head against the cushion, afraid to put any weight on Vic—too afraid he might hurt him and add to his pain. 

“I could try to get past the dog again… Eddie only left an hour ago. If I got out… If I got out, I could find someone to come get you before he gets home.” 

“You can’t get past the dog, Vic. And if you leave me here, Eddie’s going to _kill_ me.”

“Someone would get you before he comes home, I promise,” Kellin said, daring to wrap his fingers around one of Vic’s dark brown curls. He could never leave Vic here if he didn’t believe he’d make it back in time—or send someone in time—to save him. He couldn’t stand the thought of Eddie torturing Vic for a moment longer. The memories of Vic screaming as Eddie terrorized him with the dog were still so fresh in Kellin’s mind (he had nightmares about it all the time) that he couldn’t imagine leaving Vic behind forever… 

“If you go outside, the dog will kill you—and Eddie will kill me. I feel _awful,_ Kellin. I don’t want to go in the cellar again. I _can’t._ I’ll go crazy.”

“I’m _worried_ about you, Vic. Sitting here and doing nothing about it is driving _me_ crazy. I don’t think you understand how much I care about you… Seeing you hurt makes _me_ hurt.”

“Seeing Eddie’s dog ripping your arm open hurt me too! You think I want to watch that again? No! Forget it, Kellin. Now’s not the time,” Vic said, sighing heavily and furrowing his brow as another cramp tore through his stomach.

“Vic, I’ve got to try,” Kellin said, biting his lip. He was scared for Vic. He didn’t want to sit idly by while Vic _died_ right in front of him with Eddie laughing in the background. 

“Kells, _please_ don’t leave me right now…” Vic pleaded, lifting his hand to grasp the one Kellin had toying with his hair.

“I have to try something. I’ll find someone and we’ll come _get you._ Take you to the hospital?”

Vic stared at him, looking like he might cry. 

“Don’t leave me here,” Vic whispered. “You’ll get hurt again and I _can’t_ save you this time. We’re both going to get killed and I don’t want to die out here. _Please,_ Kellin. I can’t die out here where God can’t find me.” A tear fell from Vic’s eye and Kellin didn’t miss a beat wiping it away. He didn’t want Vic to hurt, but he couldn’t watch him suffer like this. He couldn’t…

“I’m doing this so I can get you out of here,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s cheek before standing up from the dirty carpet. “So that Eddie doesn’t get the chance to kill you out here where God can’t find you.”

Vic sat up instantly, crying out in pain as he moved. 

“Kellin, don’t! You know what happened last time—I can’t _save_ you this time. I really can’t. Please!”

“I’ll be okay, Vic. I promise you’ll be alright. I’ll be smart about it, okay?” Kellin walked over to the kitchen window and peered past the curtain. The dog was sleeping next to its poor excuse for a dog house, no ear trained for the house at all. “The dog’s asleep. I’m going.”

“Kellin, don’t!” Vic shouted, getting up from the couch and limping over to the door, acting as if he could really stop Kellin from opening it. 

“I have to. I’m not letting you die. It’s going to be okay. I have to _try,_ alright?”

“No!” Vic said, another tear making its way down his cheek. “I’m _sick,_ Kellin! I-I can’t be here by myself.”

“I’ll be back for you,” Kellin said, stepping over to Vic and kissing him gently on the mouth. Vic grabbed him then and started kissing him the way he kissed Eddie when he wanted to get out of trouble. It worked on Eddie, but it wouldn’t work on Kellin. 

Kellin turned his face away from the kisses and gently pushed Vic aside. 

“You’ll be okay. Just be patient.”

“Be _patient!?_ Kellin, stop!” Vic tried slapping Kellin’s hand away from the doorknob, but Vic turned in a way that his shoulder blocked Vic’s attempts. “Kellin!”

“If you scream, you’re going to wake up the dog. Please… I’ll come back.”

“Kellin…” Vic staggered backwards as Kellin took a deep breath and started undoing the locks on the door. “Kellin, I _love you.”_

“I love you too. That’s why I have to do this. Go lay down. Two hours tops and I’ll be back.”

Kellin resisted the urge to look at Vic as he slowly pulled the door open, cringing as the wood cracked as it was pulled away from the frame. 

“Will you go see if the dog wakes up so you can warn me?” Kellin asked, keeping his voice low. 

He heard Vic sniffle and bit into his bottom lip. He didn’t mean to hurt him, but he had to do this. He had to try… For Vic’s sake. This was his chance… This was his only chance. Eddie was gone, the dog was sleeping—he had to try. 

Even though Vic didn’t move from his position, Kellin opened the screen door and slowly stepped outside. He made sure the door closed noiselessly, watching as the metal door fitted against the frame. When he looked up, Vic was on the other side of the door staring at him brokenly. 

He wanted to tell Vic he loved him one more time but couldn’t risk the dog hearing him. All he could do was touch his palm to the screen, hoping Vic would reach for him as well. 

He didn’t. He lowered his head and sobbed, seeming to understand as well that speaking would only call the attention of the dog. 

Kellin swallowed hard and turned his focus back to the yard, straining to hear the jingling of the dog’s collar or the padding of its paws on the dirt. He then traced the path he needed to take to get to the fence topped with razor wire. 

He would be cut, he would be marred, but he had to take it. He had to for Vic. There was no other way to save him. 

Kellin couldn’t decide whether it was best to walk or to sprint for the fence. Running would leave him deaf to the noises around him and make him unaware of whether or not the dog had heard him—and it definitely would if he ran. His only hope then was to reach the fence and start climbing before the dog reached him.

The last time he’d gone outside he’d tried walking and that got him attacked as well…

His heart was beating so hard and he felt petrified. Something had to happen, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Walk or run… Or turn around and go back inside, mend Vic’s heart before it broke completely, and promise him he wouldn’t leave him…

Kellin looked back at Vic again and mouthed the words “I love you,” before he finally forced himself to step off the porch. He kept his footfalls as light as he could, trying not to let his breaths become sharp as panic flooded his veins. 

He kept his ears trained and his eyes focused on the fence ahead of him. 

He was going to make it. He was going to make it this time…

Just as the fence was within his reach, just as he began to feel a spark of hope, he heard the jingle of metal in the distance and turned around—immediately sprinting back for the house. He knew that sound. He _feared_ that awful noise which could only mean the dog had awoke. 

When he was halfway back to the house, he heard the dog give a sharp bark. He didn’t bother turning his head to look, knowing it would stall him—slow him, trip him up. 

He ducked his head and ran as fast as he could back to the house, back onto the porch, back through the screen door which he slammed just in time. The dog crashed against it, its slobbery face mashing against the glass. 

As Kellin stumbled over the floor mat by the door, Vic pushed him out of the way and pushed the door closed—smothering the sounds of the dog’s vicious growling. 

“Are you happy now!? You fucking idiot!” Vic screamed. “You almost got yourself killed! You could’ve died, you fucking moron!” The ferocity of his shouting was lost in how quickly the tears were pouring down his cheeks. “I hate you! Do you hear me? I _hate_ you, you asshole!”

The next thing Kellin knew, Vic had slapped him and then pushed him back a step while still screaming out words of anger and hatred that hardly sounded convincing when he crying his eyes out. 

“How could you leave me!? _How!?”_

“Vic, I’m sorry! I was going to get you help!”

“Well now I’m getting beaten! Because Eddie’s going to see the marks on the door and he’s going to _know,_ Kellin! He’s going to kill me now! Why don’t you ever understand that!? I’m _dead_ now!” Vic stopped screaming as another wave of nausea struck him and he began gagging instead. 

“Vic—it’s okay. We’ll think of something. Calm down. I won’t let him hurt you. I promise. No one’s going to hurt you.” Kellin put his hand on Vic’s back as he doubled over and vomited water onto the floor mat. That’s when the idea struck him. “I know what we’ll tell Eddie. We’ll say you started to feel sick and couldn’t make it to the bathroom—we’ll say you threw up onto the porch instead.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Vic said in between labored breaths. “He knows better! — _I_ know better! I wouldn’t puke on Eddie’s porch. I don’t even look out the windows.”

“It’s better than nothing, Vic,” Kellin whispered. He didn’t want Eddie to come home and beat Vic again—he didn’t want him tortured by the dog or locked in the cellar. He had to think of something. 

“I can’t believe you did this again. You _promised_ me,” Vic cried, falling down onto the floor next to the puddle of water and spit. “You…Y-You promised, Kellin.”

“I won’t let him hurt you tonight… I’ll think of something. I’ll be the one who gets it, not you. I love you, Vic. I was just trying to get you help, okay? I was scared. I’m _still_ scared.” He sighed and went into the kitchen to get a wad of paper towels to clean up the water. “I hate seeing him beat you. I hate seeing you cry every day.”

Vic didn’t answer, just sat on the floor mat gagging and crying until long after Kellin had cleaned up the floor. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic laid on the couch, shaking and sweating with one of the old mop buckets next to him on the floor. Even fifteen minutes or so he needed to throw up—the acid leaving a constant burn in his throat. He was so frightened, so unbelievably terrified, and no matter what he did or said, no matter how much he cried or gagged—Kellin refused to close the front door and Vic was too weak to stand and do it himself.

Eddie would be home soon and Kellin said he had a plan. While Vic lay in misery on the couch, Kellin was busying himself with dinner—the kitchen window open to create a cross-breeze with the open door. 

The dog had lost interest in the front door and was back in the yard, seemingly unaware that Kellin had reopened the door. The dog had heard it and attacked the screen door at first, causing the dent in the flimsy metal, but had left them alone after a while. 

Vic was ill, Kellin was planning to say to Eddie. He needed fresh air so Kellin had opened the door to allow a draft to come in through the screen door. Vic was left immobile on the couch so it would be obvious that he had no intention to run away, and Kellin was pretending to be focused on cooking instead of escape. 

Kellin said he knew he’d get a beating, but was still convinced that Eddie would leave Vic out of it. Eddie would be enraged, but he might let them live. It was the only chance they had…

If Eddie felt merciful, Vic was sure he might be spared the cellar or the dog’s unforgiving jaws. 

When he heard Eddie’s car pull up, he heard for the first time the sounds of Eddie unlocking the padlock Kellin told him was on the fence. He also heard the man swearing and seething—even from so far away.

“K-Kellin? _Kellin?”_ Vic pleaded, terror overwhelming him and causing him to retch once again into the bucket. This time with the spit came a thin, crimson trail of blood. 

Vic didn’t hear Eddie pull the car up any further. The metal gate screeched open then the entire fence seemed to rattle under the force as he pushed it closed. Vic sobbed and pressed back against the couch as he heard the man stampede towards the porch—coming closer and closer until he threw open the front door. 

He spluttered in surprise when he saw both of his slaves still inside his home, then started in on them. 

“What the fuck is this!?” He boomed, gesturing toward the front door. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie! I told him not to!” Vic screamed.

“Told him not to?—Told him not to what!?”

“Open the door!” Vic squeaked, desperate to avoid the tortures he knew were coming and yet unable to betray Kellin and turn him over to Eddie’s wrath for having tried to run. 

“He’s sick, Eddie,” Kellin chimed in. “I-I thought he could use the fresh air. W-We weren’t going anywhere. I-I—I made dinner.” 

“You—You stupid little whore!” Eddie shouted, storming toward Kellin with his fist raised. 

Vic closed his eyes and tried to cover his ears to block out the sounds of the punches that followed. A dish was shattered and Kellin’s body crumpled onto the floor with a loud bang—the dull thuds of Eddie’s fist echoing on for nearly two minutes afterwards. 

In his blind rage, Eddie was deaf to Kellin’s piercing screams—but Vic heard each and every one. Then, once it stopped, he knew it was his turn. 

His eyes were still closed when Eddie kicked the bucket away from the couch and grabbed Vic by his hair. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry!” Vic screamed, able to catch himself and keep from slamming his face onto the floor when Eddie released him. He could hear Kellin gasping for breath in the kitchen and dared to crawl a step forward to peer around the side of the couch to glance at him.

As he stared at Kellin who lay on his back, his face bloodied and one of his hands reaching out for something at his side, Vic remained aware of the jingling noise of Eddie’s belt overhead. 

He struggled to keep his breaths even as he heard the belt getting pulled quickly from the denim loops of Eddie’s jeans, but his scream of fear was cut short when Eddie grabbed the back of his shirt. Eddie exposed Vic’s entire back in one fast motion and pushed Vic’s head down onto the floor with one hand while raising the belt in his other. 

Eddie didn’t even shout at him, just grunted as he brought the belt down over and over on Vic’s bared skin—covering every inch of his back, from the base of his neck to the waistband of his jeans, with thick red welts. All Vic could do was scream and yelp in between the blows—the force of some enough to knock the air out of his lungs. 

Vic had thrown up another puddle of blood during the attack and was then left to lay in it when Eddie finally tired of him and went back to Kellin. 

The dinner Kellin prepared was thrown on him—the hot food burning him and making him emit a long, shrill scream. Vic curled himself into a ball and struggled to breathe through the waves of pain and nausea. He was terrified and helpless, and unable to help his friend—the boy he loved. 

“Now you’re lucky this is all you’re gonna get!” Eddie snapped. “You’re _lucky!_ You pull another stunt like that and you’re both dead. You got that!?”

Vic tried to wheeze out a submissive “yes, sir,” but nothing came out. Kellin let out a choked noise which was followed by the sound of Eddie kicking him—either in the stomach or in the groin. 

“That goes for you, too,” Eddie said, speaking to Kellin who earned another kick that left him gasping in pain. “You didn’t like it when you thought I let the dog kill your little buddy—but next time, Kellin, I’m going to make you be the one to slit his fucking throat. How do you like that? You want his blood on your hands?”

“No, Eddie,” Kellin gasped. 

“Didn’t think so!” Eddie kicked him a final time, then crossed the living room and went back outside. Vic wanted to uncurl himself and move to catch a glimpse of Kellin—to see if he was alright—but he couldn’t move. His arms and legs were unresponsive and all he could do was lay there and tremble. He couldn’t even call to Kellin, though Kellin seemed equally incapable of calling out to him. 

Vic laid still and listened to the sounds of Kellin crying which grew fainter and fainter as the seconds ticked by. Vic at first feared that Kellin was fading away—dying. Then he realized it wasn’t Kellin…

His entire body was numb—all of Vic’s senses draining away, hearing included, followed by his sight. Everything faded to blackness…silence. 

It was almost peaceful. It felt, almost, like falling asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Kellin was weeping in pain, no pride or dignity left in him at all after the beating Eddie had given him. His nose was broken, his face was still streaked in a blood despite Vic’s gentle efforts, the skin of his neck was burned from the food thrown on him…his body just _hurt._ Everywhere.

“It’s okay… You’ll be okay.” Vic kept saying it over and over as he sat on the edge of the tub and dabbed at Kellin’s bloody face. Vic’s back had been split open by the lashing Eddie had given him, but he refused to let Kellin even try to help clean the cuts—not that he would be much help in his present state. “It’ll stop hurting soon.” 

All Kellin could do in response was cry and mumble, his voice too shaky to be at all comprehensible to Vic. He was a good caregiver, however. Vic just cooed over him and helped wash him up in the bathtub. Vic even gave soft kisses every now and then when Eddie wasn’t in the doorway watching. Kellin couldn’t kiss back—hell, he could barely even turn his head—but he would try to hold back his sobs when Vic kissed him, desperate to show his affections in any way he could. It was his fault for all of this and Vic didn’t deserve the beating he’d gotten either.

Kellin saw the marks littering Vic’s beautiful skin—bruises, cuts, and streaks of blood. They hurt him worse that Eddie’s fists. To know that Vic was still feeling ill because Kellin had failed him, to know Vic was now in even more pain because Kellin had failed him, made Kellin hate himself. Eddie had been trying for months to break Kellin’s spirit, and now he’d succeeded without even having to try. 

In his mind, he kept playing over and over those last moments outside the house. He’d almost had his fingers wrapped around the wire fence when he’d heard the dog running for him. If he’d just started to climb instead of turning and sprinting back for the house, he could’ve made it over the fence. He could’ve escaped if he hadn’t been a coward. Vic would be in a hospital now, not still dying in Eddie’s house… Not vomiting blood every few minutes. 

Kellin wanted to say he was sorry, but his jaw hurt and he could barely speak. Vic would just shush him anyway, so Kellin just sat in the tub and wept as Vic bathed him and comforted him.

After he was clean, Eddie made them both lay down in the bed and gave Kellin a bag of frozen peas from the freezer to put on his face in order to make the swelling go down. Kellin laid there with his eyes closed and face slowly going numb while Vic was made to lay on his bloodied back and was raped next to him.

Vic was made to apologize for things he didn’t even do as Eddie brutalized him. Eddie forced him to admit to trying to run away with Kellin—forced him to say he _wanted_ punished so he would know not to do it again. 

When it was over, Eddie laid down between them like nothing had even happened and went to sleep. By that time, Kellin had stopped crying but Vic was left weeping until exhaustion claimed him after three in the morning. Each cry was like a knife in Kellin’s chest. Each and every choked or shaking or raspy sob cut him deeply. 

It was his fault Vic was hurting. It was all his fault…

( ) ( ) ( )

Months. It had been months and Vic was feeling no better than he had been before. He’d stopped vomiting blood, but remained ill. If he was made to eat a large meal, he would throw up immediately afterward. In place of lunches and dinner, Vic had to settle for snacking—eating his meals one bite at a time and taking hours to finish them. 

Kellin’s injuries had healed fully except his nose which would be forever slightly crooked after Eddie had broken it, and he seemed to show a fair amount of guilt over his good health in comparison to Vic’s. Kellin tried to do most of the chores and would insist that Vic just lay down and rest during the day. He would wait on Vic and show him all sorts of affection—petting his hair, kissing him, rubbing his back. It was almost peaceful. Almost. 

Nothing could really distract from the pain he was in or the hopelessness in his heart, not even Kellin’s beautiful face. Vic knew without a doubt that he was slowly dying and that if they didn’t manage an escape, he would be dead before winter came again. 

Kellin had been snatched up in late fall, winter had come and gone—Christmas had come and gone—and now the weather was growing hot again. The small house burned like fire in the summers and that sweltering heat would only aggravate Vic’s ailments. It would be a miracle if he survived the summer…

“Vic?—I made you more soup,” Kellin said, leaning over the back of the couch with a glass bowl between his hands. Vic stared up at him from where he lay across the cushions.

“More soup?” Vic asked. It was all Kellin ever made him for lunch.

“It’s potato soup. I made it with beef stock and some left over veggies. I promise it doesn’t taste like shit,” Kellin said, handing the bowl down to Vic who slowly sat himself up. As soon as he was upright, Kellin kissed his cheek and then the corner of his mouth until Vic turned to kiss him on the lips. “I’m going to clean up the stove, then I’ll come sit with you, okay?”

“Just come eat with me now—I’ll help you clean up when we’re done,” Vic said.

“You don’t need to be cleaning. Just eat. I won’t take long.”

“No. Come on, Kellin… I don’t want to sit here and eat by myself. You’ve been cleaning all morning. Take a break,” Vic argued. 

Kellin hesitated a moment longer then sighed and leaned back from the couch. 

“Okay. Let me get a bowl.” Moments later he was seated at Vic’s side, sipping at his own bowl of steaming soup. 

“It’s not bad,” Vic said, offering Kellin a smile. 

“That means I fucked something up,” Kellin said, passing Vic an irritable glance. 

“No it doesn’t,” Vic said. 

“If it’s ‘not bad,’ that means it’s not good either,” Kellin mumbled, lifting his bowl to his lips and sipping up the broth around the rim. 

“It’s good, Kells.”

“But it’s missing something, right? That’s what you always say…” He looked so disheartened and Vic’s already weakened appetite diminished completely. Eddie was the one meant to cut them down. Vic hadn’t ever meant to hurt Kellin’s feelings.

“I just think it would be better if you let me make it with you instead of pushing me out of the way,” Vic said.

“Because I can’t cook for shit, right? And you need to supervise…”

“No, because then I don’t have to feel so guilty for laying here while you do all the work.”

“You don’t need to feel guilty! It’s _my_ fault you’re as sick as you are.”

“No it’s not,” Vic said. He took in a few more mouthfuls of the soup before he had to set it down on the coffee table and take a break. Kellin was still eating and Vic settled for laying back down with his head on Kellin’s lap as he waited for his stomach to settle. 

“You should take a nap. You seem sleepy,” Kellin said.

“I’m not a ninety-year-old man,” Vic said. “I don’t need to nap all day. I need something to do.”

“You can’t even eat a bowl of soup. If you start trying to clean the bathroom, you’re going to faint.”

“I can’t eat because my organs are fucked up. Cleaning doesn’t involve my stomach. Let me help you.”

“Vic…” Kellin sighed and set his bowl of soup down on the coffee table as well, then set to stroking Vic’s hair. “I don’t want you to stress yourself. You’re not doing very well lately.”

“I’ll be okay, Kellin. Just let me help.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Kellin said, leaning down and kissing Vic on the forehead. “Keep your strength. You know you’ll need it when Eddie gets home.”

“I’m not an invalid. I can help out around the house if you’d let me.”

“We have to wash the bed sheets…do you want to do that?” Kellin asked. It seemed to be the least labor intensive task he could think of, but Vic agreed regardless. He needed to feel like he served some purpose here besides being Eddie’s sex toy. 

“I can do that,” Vic said, reaching for his soup again. He managed another few sips and a couple bites of the diced potatoes before having to take another break.

Kellin just watched him and shook his head.

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin watched as Vic finished draping the fresh blanket over the bed. He’d managed to wash the sheets and change out the bedding on his own while Kellin did the dishes. Now, as the last of the blankets was in the dryer, Vic had placed the final touches on their bedding—looking so pleased with himself since he hadn’t even needed a break from his chores. 

He even finished his bowl of soup in between tasks. 

Now, he was bent over the bed, smoothing the blanket and tucking in under their pillows. Kellin smiled and drew closer, wrapping his arms around Vic’s waist and leaning down to nuzzle the back of his neck. 

“Huh?—Oh, hi!” Vic said, giggling as he pushed back against Kellin. 

“Hi,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s neck gently. It was probably too bold—they hadn’t touched each other since the attack that had broken Kellin’s nose and scarred every inch of Vic’s back—but seeing Vic that way, all happy and energetic and _domestic,_ it made Kellin want back what they’d had before. Even if it was just playing house, acting the part of a happy couple while their torturer was away, Kellin missed it. 

Holding hands while one of them was violated wasn’t the same as holding each other because they wanted to—not because one of them was hurting. Nothing came even close to the sensation Kellin got when Vic would press back against him because he wanted to—not out of pain or fear.

And that’s what Vic was doing, pushing up against him and turning his head to get a kiss on the mouth. Kellin put his hands on Vic’s hips and turned him around, kissing him a little deeper. Vic wrapped his arms around Kellin’s waist and moaned softly, slowly sitting down on the bed and drawing Kellin down with him. 

“You haven’t kissed me like that in a while,” Vic whispered as he crawled backwards. 

“Why do I always have to be the one to make the first move?” Kellin asked, smirking as he climbed over top Vic and started kissing him again. “You know, when I had boyfriends, I always made them do all the work,” Kellin added when Vic didn’t give him an answer.

“I don’t want to want to scare you,” Vic muttered, tipping his head back against the mattress as Kellin kissed and nipped at his neck. He had his eyes squeezed shut and when Kellin pulled back, he noticed that Vic had started shaking. 

“Do I scare you?” Kellin asked, keeping his voice gentle. When Vic didn’t give an immediate answer, Kellin knew he had to slow his motions. Vic was injured and sick, and above all else he was used to being bulldozed over by Eddie whenever the psychopath was in the mood. With Kellin crawling all over top of him, it was easy for Vic to slip back into that mindset and submit rather than participate—and participation was all Kellin really wanted from him. The most they were going to do was exchange handjobs, and the last thing he wanted was Vic to be afraid of him.

Not sure what to do to bring Vic back to him, to stop the shivering and get the man to open his eyes, Kellin settled for flopping over onto the mattress beside him. He snuggled up next to him and kissed him on the cheek, putting on a mask of innocence instead of sex appeal. When kissing alone didn’t work to get Vic’s breathing to slow down, Kellin tried snuggling against him whilst tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

“Vic? _Vic?”_

“Hm?—I’m having a dizzy spell. I’m okay,” Vic said, opening his eyes a sliver only to squeeze them shut again. 

Kellin sighed heavily and shifted around until he was laying comfortably with his head on Vic’s chest. Vic lifted an arm to wrap around Kellin’s shoulders, holding him in return as his breathing began to slow. 

“Vic?”

“I told you, it’s just a dizzy spell,” Vic whispered. 

“Mm? Saying I kiss so good it makes your head spin, huh?” Kellin asked.

Vic gave a soft chuckle and squeezed Kellin a little tighter.

“Must be it,” he mumbled. “Gonna have to go easy on me, Kells…”

“You’re so cute though—I don’t think I can,” Kellin whispered, sliding his hand up Vic’s side.

“Just be careful of my dog bite, okay? It’s still tender,” Vic said.

“I can kiss it better for you,” Kellin suggested, pushing Vic’s shirt up a little—more so to look at the old wound and make sure it was healing than to be flirtatious. The bite had gotten infected multiple times despite all of Kellin’s efforts to keep it clean and had left an awful scar. It never fully healed and still bled sometimes even though it had been months since the attack, and Kellin was more than certain the bite was what caused Vic’s frequent illness. 

“You could,” Vic mumbled.

“You want me to kiss it and make it all better?” Kellin asked, giggling softly so Vic would know he wasn’t a threat. 

“I’d rather you just kiss me, but you know I’m not one to argue,” Vic said, opening his eyes finally and smiling just a touch. 

Kellin cooed at him and sat up so he could kiss him on the lips. He kept it innocent, knowing Vic’s shaking had nothing to do with a dizzy spell. He’d gotten nervous and Kellin didn’t want to frighten him again. 

“Vic?”

“Hm?”

“You have really nice eyes,” Kellin said, stroking Vic’s cheek with his thumb. The other man looked up at him with a shy smile, then rolled his eyes and turned his head away. “You do—they’re so big.”

“They’re brown. They’re boring,” Vic said, shaking his head.

“They’re deep,” Kellin said quietly. 

“Ugly,” Vic mumbled, the corner of his mouth twitching with pain. Eddie had ruined Vic’s image of himself…

“Well, I like them,” Kellin whispered, moving to sit on Vic’s hips. “I like all of you.”

“Yeah…” Vic closed his eyes again, his breathing becoming rapid just as it had before. 

“I’m not going to do anything to hurt you,” Kellin said, moving off of Vic’s hips in order to sit cross legged on the bed beside him. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Kellin, I… I love you, but I can’t,” Vic said, opening his eyes and looking at Kellin with fear. Kellin didn’t know what he’d done to lose Vic’s trust over the winter, but it hurt. “I-I _want to,_ but if Eddie comes home early or…or anything like that—I…I don’t want hurt.”

“I won’t let him hurt you tonight,” Kellin said. “I want you to be happy.”

“You can’t keep him—”

“I can and I will,” Kellin said with determination. He wasn’t going to let Eddie hurt Vic. Not tonight… If he had his way, he’d make sure Eddie never hurt Vic again. He’d take all the beatings—all the pain—if only he could. One night it would be easy. The rest…not so much. 

Eddie liked hurting them too much to leave Vic alone for too long. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin was making lunch for them—and therefore making a mess of their kitchen. He never seemed to understand that the greater the mess he made, the more time he had to spend cleaning and the less time they got to spend cuddling in bed before Eddie got home. Earlier in the week when Eddie had gone on his grocery run, Kellin had convinced the man to pick up white greavy, breakfast sausage—something Eddie typically didn’t enjoy eating—and a couple rolls of premade biscuit dough. Kellin said he wanted to make Eddie a hearty breakfast of sausage gravy and biscuits, but in reality he’d stored half of the ingredients in the forgotten crisper drawer and was currently using them to make breakfast pizzas. 

For lunch… 

“Kells, you’re making a mess,” Vic said, calling Kellin’s attention to him before walking over to him and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Kellin had become more and more jumpy with the passing weeks and sneaking up on him proved a good way to get head-butted or smacked (though Kellin’s blows were never hard enough to hurt).

“I’m making lunch, Babe,” Kellin said in a tone of nonchalance. He was trying to get the pre-formed, raw biscuit dough to meld together in order to make a crust and was failing dismally. 

“Try kneading it, Darling,” Vic said, taking the two wads of dough from Kellin’s hands. He stretched one of the pieces around the other, then set it down on a clean slab of the counter. After a few moments of pressing and rolling the dough with his hands, he’d managed to get them to mix together without separating as soon as he let go. “Now what?” Vic asked.

“I’ve gotta make another one,” Kellin said. He copied Vic’s example and managed to form another crust, though it was a little less symmetrical than the one Vic had made. 

“Now what?” Vic asked, leaning up to put his chin on Kellin’s shoulders—intentionally invading his space in hopes of getting a bit more attention. He was feeling better today and was determined to make the most of it. 

“I gotta put it in the oven.”

“What about the toppings and stuff?”

“You can’t cook scrambled eggs in the oven. I have to cook the dough first, then I can put the toppings on it.”

Vic watched as Kellin put the two crusts onto a baking sheet and popped them in the oven. 

“But the gravy will be cold.”

“I’m gonna heat it up in the skillet.”

“But you’re using the skillet of the eggs.”

“Then I’ll get another skillet!”

“How are you going to cook the sausage then?” Vic asked, letting his arms wind around Kellin’s waist as he nuzzled the boy’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know! I’ll figure it out!” Kellin snapped. 

“Don’t get mad at me. I’m just teasing you,” Vic said, smiling against Kellin’s back. “How long do the crusts cook?”

“I don’t know… The tube said about ten to twelve minutes. Gives me time to cook the sausage.” Kellin pulled away in order to grab the skillet out from the cabinet. Vic followed him the two steps it took to get over there and the two steps back, knowing he was being irritating but not caring at all that he was underfoot. 

He latched onto Kellin’s back again as the boy started breaking up the sausage as the skillet warmed on the burner. 

“Kellin?”

“What?” Kellin asked, his tone slightly irritable. Vic giggled at him and held him a little tighter. “You know…you’re bugging me a little.”

“I just miss you,” Vic said. “Give me something to help with.”

“You can help by…letting go of me for a minute,” Kellin said.

“Aw…” Vic feigned disappointment as he let go and gave Kellin his space. He moved out of the kitchen area to sit on the couch, fighting the small bit of nausea that climbed up the back of his throat. He didn’t want to start throwing up again. He wanted to eat breakfast pizza for lunch and tease Kellin until the boy stole his hat from him like he did every time they fought. 

“You didn’t have to go all the way out there,” Kellin called shortly after Vic had sat down.

“I’m okay,” Vic called, peering over the back of the couch at Kellin who was whisking together the eggs and milk while the sausage sizzled in the skillet. 

“Yeah…but now I’m lonely,” Kellin said. 

Vic smiled as he pulled himself back up from the couch and returned to his place behind Kellin, hugging him and snuggling against him. 

“You’re cute when you’re concentrating,” Vic mumbled after a little while, letting his eyes slipped closed. Kellin was humming to himself and Vic was really, truly hopeful the boy might start to sing. He’d wanted to hear Kellin sing since the boy mentioned he had knack for it. He loved the sound of Kellin’s voice when he spoke and could only imagine his singing with twice as beautiful.

“You think so, huh?” Kellin asked, slipping right back into the tune he’d been humming once the question was out. 

“What are you humming?” Vic asked.

“Nothing…”

“Can you sing it for me?” Vic pressed, knowing he was risking getting snapped at. 

“Nah…” Kellin rolled his shoulders, signaling for Vic to let go of him and give him his space again.

With a sinking heart, Vic retreated to the bedroom this time and laid back down. He waited for Kellin to call him when the meal was ready and kept his head down as he sat down at the table. 

“What’s the matter?” Kellin asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Is your stomach sick again?”

“No, it’s not that,” Vic said, smiling a little as he stared down at the breakfast pizza Kellin had made for him. The sausage was all clumped in the middle, forming a heart amongst the scrambled eggs and cheese. 

“What is it?” Kellin pressed.

“You made a heart,” Vic said, looking up and smiling at Kellin who blushed and turned away, shaking his head. 

“So?” Kellin asked, picking up his pizza and taking a large bite—only to end up spitting it back onto his plate and whimpering in pain. “Hot! Oh, fuck, that was hot. Ow—Ow, oww.”

Vic giggled at him, passing him a humored look of empathy.

“Poor thing,” Vic offered.

“That fuckin’ hurt,” Kellin whimpered. 

“I’ll kiss it better—come here,” Vic said, leaning across the table—making a show of puckering his lips.

Kellin giggled at him, then leaned forward to return the kiss. 

“Be more careful, Darling,” Vic said. “I like your mouth too much for you to go burning it off.”

Kellin rolled his eyes and picked his pizza up again, taking a successful bite after blowing on it first. Vic smiled at him and lifted up his pizza as well. The flavor was fantastic and the texture was spot-on no matter how thrown together it was. 

Vic made a point to keep making eyes at Kellin as he nibbled on the pizza, made more and more excited each time Kellin looked away and blushed. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Kellin asked, his cheeks bright red.

“I don’t know,” Vic mumbled, unable to fight his grin. “Because you’re beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Kellin mumbled, shaking his head. He was smiling too and seemed unable to stop. Even after they’d both finished their meals, Kellin was smiling as they washed dishes together. They kissed each other’s cheeks as they went about their chores until Vic finally lost his patience with all the soft kisses. 

But he didn’t know exactly how to take things to the next level… He didn’t want to frighten Kellin or make him uncomfortable. He wanted more than anything to get Kellin’s hands on his hips, but didn’t know how to ask for it any more than he knew how to initiate it.

He’d had a panic attack the last time Kellin had tried to give him affection, what if Kellin didn’t even like him in that way anymore?

“What’s the matter?” Kellin asked, looking up from the table he was wiping down with a cloth. 

“What?” Vic asked, swallowing hard. He was frightened now that Kellin would reject him. He had a right to and all the reasons in the world to not want Vic pawing at him, but Vic wished they could just have a moment—one of the nice ones that ended with them in bed together holding each other and pretending Eddie didn’t exist. 

“You keep fidgeting.” 

“No I don’t,” Vic said, doing exactly that and blushing furiously. He wasn’t cut out for this… He wasn’t bold enough to make a move. He knew better than to make a move… Eddie would be home in a few hours to hurt them both. Why would Kellin want Vic pawing at him?

He wouldn’t…

“What?” Kellin asked again, smiling as he tossed the rag aside and came over to Vic. “You’ve been staring at me all day.”

“I-I just…” Vic blushed hard when Kellin put his hands on Vic’s hips and pulled him forward—exactly how he wanted him to. 

“You’re an open book. You know that, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Vic asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Kellin said, leaning down to kiss Vic’s neck—extracting an immediate gasp of pleasure. “You like that?” Kellin asked, peppering Vic’s neck with feather light kisses before starting to suck on his pulse. Vic’s hips rolled forward of their own accord. Kellin hummed, sending the vibrations along Vic’s throat. “Want me to give you some more?”

“I-I… I—”

“Want me to suck you off?” Kellin asked.

“N-No,” Vic said, laughing nervously before he could even finish the brief word. 

“Why not? I’m _real_ good at it,” Kellin said.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Vic stammered.

“Hurt me?—You can barely even touch me. How in the hell are you going to hurt me?” Kellin asked, giggling and kissing Vic’s cheek. “C’mon. We’ll go lay down.”

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin knew Vic was too nervous to ask for anything, but it was fun watching him squirm. Vic was so clearly, obviously, _explicitly_ in the mood yet he was too worried about hurting Kellin to even ask for a kiss. In the past, having a guy too nervous to even approach him would have been an immediate turn off for Kellin. He preferred to be the one getting wooed, responding to a more dominant man—not the one initiating and doing all the work. But it was different here—it was different with _Vic_ in particular. 

Vic wasn’t just some nervous guy with no self-confidence. He was hurting and sick and absolutely terrified of causing Kellin pain. His hesitation was based on love. It was as flattering as it was cute. 

Kellin got Vic to lay back on the bed as they kissed one another. He was careful to keep his body to one side of Vic’s, knowing that crawling over top of Vic or sitting on him would trigger him. He put one hand on Vic’s cheek as their lips worked together, occasionally stroking it or sliding it down to cup his neck instead. 

“Vic?” Kellin asked in between their kisses.

All Vic managed was a shaky hum, his entire body seemingly vibrating in anticipation. He didn’t seem frightened, though. He had his hands at his sides and kept clenching and unclenching them depending on where Kellin’s lips touched him. 

“Do you like this?” Kellin asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Vic breathed, tipping his head back when Kellin began sucking on his neck again. 

“You wanna do more?”

“Yes,” Vic pleaded. 

“Want to fuck me?” Kellin asked, trying to make his tone as seductive as possible. He wanted Vic to get caught up in it. He wanted them to slip into the alternate world they’d made up in their heads where Eddie wasn’t real and this bed was their own. 

Vic didn’t make that transition as easily as Kellin did, however, and the proposition caused him to sit straight up and back against the headboard.

“Kellin, we can’t—”

“Why?” Kellin asked, playing dumb and innocent as he scooted closer to Vic and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. 

“Well… I-It’ll hurt you! I don’t want to _hurt_ you.”

“It won’t hurt me,” Kellin said, smiling in admiration at Vic’s nervousness. He knew he was going to get his way in the end, he just had to get Vic to focus more on his lust than his protective instincts. 

“Kellin, y-you know that hurts. Let’s do something else. I-I can suck you—”

“I don’t want a blow job from you. I want you to get on top of me…” Kellin climbed into Vic’s lap and kissed him on the lips, making sure their hips were pressed together. “And take care of me.”

“I can take care of you in other ways,” Vic said, shivering as Kellin rolled his hips. 

“I don’t want you in other ways,” Kellin murmured, nuzzling Vic’s neck as slowly as he could before nipping it gently. “C’mon. You look so good. I want you.”

Vic made this sad, conflicted sound in the back of his throat before he put his hands on Kellin’s hips. His fingers dug in for a moment, then he loosened his grip and pulled back. 

“Kells…”

“Please?” Kellin asked, keeping his tone playful with a hint of seduction. He wanted this and he wasn’t going to let it slip out of his grasp because Vic was too afraid of hurting him. Nothing Vic could do to him would hurt even half as bad as Eddie’s cruel tortures. 

“I-I… I guess we could try,” Vic said, looking at Kellin nervously and blushing. “I’m… I’m not sure how good it’ll be—”

“Oh, shut up,” Kellin said, rolling his eyes before going in for another kiss. He grabbed the back of Vic’s neck to pull him in and make it deeper, parting his lips in order to welcome Vic’s tongue into his mouth. He couldn’t hold back his moan when Vic began reciprocating, even if the gentle pawing at his hips was hardly what Kellin would consider sexual. 

After a bit of work, Kellin managed to get his shirt off and laid on his back on the bed. He almost giggled when Vic got on top of him, but managed to suppress it even though he still smiled like an idiot. His joy just seemed to make Vic more flustered. His cheeks were burning a bright shade of red as he slowly took off his own shirt, his hat falling off along with the faded t-shirt. 

Vic reached back for it, but Kellin snagged his wrist and pulled him back down.

“Vic, you look fine. Forget the stupid beanie,” Kellin said before kissing him on the mouth. 

After nearly fifteen minutes of kisses and heavy petting, Kellin finally had them both naked and had pressed Eddie’s bottle of lubricant into Vic’s hand. Until that point, Vic had been going along with whatever Kellin urged him to do, but being reminded of Eddie seemed to break Vic’s concentration. 

“I don’t want to hurt you like this, Kellin,” Vic said, leaning back and staring at the bottle. 

“Vic, you won’t hurt me. I _like_ this. Remember? I’ve done this before—with guys who _aren’t_ Eddie.”

“I know, but… What if he comes home and wants you? You’ll be sore and then…he might notice.”

“I don’t want to think about him. I want _you._ I want to say _yes_ to you,” Kellin said, looking up at Vic and trying to convey with just his eyes alone how important that really was to him. Eddie had taken everything away from him. His freedom, his happiness, his ability to choose anything for himself. Kellin could refuse nothing—could agree to nothing of his own free will. Nothing outside of what he and Vic could do together. Vic was the only person now who could give him a say. 

“But I don’t know how to do this. What if I hurt you?—You’ll never trust me with anything again. I can’t lose you.”

“Hey—stop it. You’re not losing me. We’ll be fine. I want this. Don’t you want me?” He quirked his eyebrow as he asked, trying to bring back the mood before Vic completely ruined it with his anxiety. 

“Yeah,” Vic said, blushing and looking away again. 

“Then just do it. You _know how,”_ he added. 

Vic let out one final noise of confliction before setting the lubricant aside and going in for more kisses. Kellin spread his legs in anticipation, his heart fluttering when Vic finally pulled back and opened the bottle of lube. It was about to happen—it was really about to happen. 

As soon as Kellin felt one of Vic’s fingers press at his opening, Kellin let out a loud moan—almost getting off on just the idea alone. His moaning seemed to encourage Vic and give him some confidence in his actions. He didn’t hesitate to add a second finger, pressing them both in as deep as he could before starting to move them in and out. 

Kellin let moan after moan slip past his lips, some forced but most genuine. He couldn’t help but buck his hips when Vic’s fingers rubbed against his prostate. Once Vic realized that was the spot, he just wouldn’t let up. He kept curling his fingers against that spot until Kellin threw his head back against the pillow and nearly screamed. If Vic kept going, Kellin was going to finish—and he didn’t want that yet. 

He had to push Vic back and tell him to take things to the next level, even if he knew he could do with a bit more prep. He already knew he wasn’t going to last long and was determined that Vic get some enjoyment out of this too. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He felt as guilty as he did honored. He knew Kellin loved him, but he didn’t know he liked him _like this._ Even something as simple as kissing Kellin was enough to make Vic’s heart flutter, but _this_ was entirely different. 

He’d been with girls like this before, but it hadn’t ever felt like this. There was this overwhelming sense of connection with Kellin, something beyond the physical. When Kellin looked up at him, even when his eyes were half-closed with pleasure, it was as if he were staring into Vic’s soul. They understood each other. They could hide nothing from one another. 

When Kellin watched him, Vic read him in return. He was looking at first for signs of pain or fear—anything that indicated Kellin was feeling forced into this. But there was nothing. Kellin was watching him and moaning his name—occasionally choking out a demand that Vic was more than happy to oblige. 

Say his name. Tell him he loved him. Move faster—move slower. 

Before long, Vic started to know what Kellin wanted without having to search his face to find out. What felt right for him seemed to work even better for Kellin who was never held back a single appreciative noise. 

Vic adored how vocal Kellin was—his shrill cries and screams invaded Vic’s brain like a drug. 

He had one of his hands propping him up and the other wrapped around Kellin’s length, stroking him. Kellin kept rolling his and bucking them upwards, sometimes meeting Vic’s thrusts though they never seemed to manage a steady rhythm. 

Kellin was clutching onto Vic’s shoulders, his fingers pressed deeply into Vic’s skin though his nails never scraped him. Once in a while he’d let his hand slip forward to the back of Vic’s neck and pull him down into a kiss, or maybe his hand would trail lower and grip at Vic’s thigh—trying to make him go deeper. 

As he neared climax, Kellin’s moans started to turn into nearly feral growls, his breaths getting louder and louder in time with Vic’s thrusts. Finally, they started to move in synch as Kellin moaned for Vic to move slower—but harder. 

Vic couldn’t comply with that demand, however. He was already using as much force as he’d dare, terrified he’d do something wrong and hurt his boyfriend. He didn’t want to be like Eddie. He wanted to make Kellin feel safe and happy—not afraid. He didn’t want those intoxicating screams of pleasure to turn to pain or fear. 

“Come on—Come on, just do it,” Kellin panted. “Fuck me. Vic, just fuck me. C’mon.”

Vic whined and pressed his face down against Kellin’s sweaty neck, trying to stoke him even faster in order to make up for his inability to meet Kellin’s demands. He angled his hips a little more and Kellin let out a loud growl, his legs snapping closed around Vic’s hips—forcing Vic inside as deep as was possible. 

The bolt of pleasure shot through Vic’s entire body, pushing him immediately to the edge. Kellin kept moaning his name over and over and didn’t let up—holding him tight with his arms and his legs until Vic released inside of him. 

All Vic could manage to do in that moment was press his forehead into the bend of Kellin’s neck and moan—knowing it would be better if he could say Kellin’s name or at least keep stroking him. All he could do was nuzzle his neck and moan, his body shaking uncontrollably as he pressed as close to Kellin as he could get—seeking warmth, seeking affection, relishing the sound of Kellin’s voice as he whispered in his ear. 

“I love you,” Kellin was saying. “You’re so fucking amazing.” Words Vic never got to hear—not from anyone. Even his old girlfriends didn’t shower him with praise like this, not even in the heat of lust. Especially not if their needs had yet to be satisfied. 

Kellin let Vic recover fully before reminding him of the task at hand. Even then, his voice was gentle—suggesting Vic touch him some more as opposed to commanding him. Vic kissed Kellin on the mouth a final time before pulling slowly, gently away. He made his way down Kellin’s body and looked up at him once he’d come to rest with his head near Kellin’s groin.

“Is this okay?” Vic asked, reaching out to stroke Kellin’s length.

“Yes—Yeah,” Kellin said, letting his head flop back against the pillow. “Just don’t stop, okay? I’m close. Don’t stop.”

Once he had permission, Vic ducked his head and parted his lips. He sucked the tip of Kellin’s cock into his mouth and quickly took in as much as he could without gagging. He slid his tongue along the underside of Kellin’s length and started bobbing his head up and down, moaning softly when he felt Kellin’s hand on the back of his head—not so much guiding him or pulling him down, just touching him and stroking his hair. Kellin didn’t even pull on the strands like Eddie did. 

Vic set up a steady rhythm and focused more on the sounds Kellin was making than the bitter taste filling his mouth. His voice was so shrill and fluttery—so completely overwhelmed with pleasure that it was making Vic’s head feel swimmy. Someone loved him. Someone as beautiful as Kellin loved and wanted touched by him. 

“Vic?—Oh, fuck. Vic!” Kellin started bucking his hips and Vic did his best to relax his throat and take everything Kellin had to give him.

When it was over, Kellin just laid panting against the mattress as Vic crawled up beside him. He collapsed next to the boy and rested his head on Kellin’s chest, smiling when Kellin wrapped an arm around him. He felt so safe here, so honored and privileged.

“Kells?” Vic whispered, his voice a bit raw.

“Hm?”

Vic stared up at him, no real words in his head—just feelings. Just feelings he couldn’t even fathom putting into words… He was caught up in his admiration for Kellin. The boy was beautiful and gentle and so, so kind. What had he done to be so lucky as to have Kellin here with him?

They were going to escape together and Kellin would stay with him. They came to this hell just so they could meet each other—be with each other. They were soul mates, Vic felt. He loved Kellin more than life itself. He’d die for him in an instant if he had to. 

Maybe he should try to get past the dog next time. Eddie wouldn’t kill Kellin if Vic failed, and if Vic wasn’t slowing him down, maybe Kellin could get away even if Vic failed.

Vic could distract the dog while Kellin ran… Kellin could get away. He deserved to be out of this place. He was too good for this hell. 

“Why are you staring at me?” Kellin asked, giggling softly.

“I’m just looking,” Vic mumbled, nuzzling Kellin’s neck. “Am I bothering you?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kellin said, holding Vic tight and smiling. They shared a few more kisses before Vic rolled over to set an alarm that would wake them with just enough time to wash up and make dinner for Eddie. After that, the two snuggled as close as possible and went to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left!
> 
> Also, I oddly imagine that this story takes place in Texas... There's no real significance or reason, nor is it important, but Eddie strikes me as an insane Texan... No offense to Texas.

Eddie had friends. Kellin didn’t know why that idea had escaped him for so long even though he’d mention men named Neil and Trent in the past. He’d bought Neil a pricey grill for Christmas and had even shown it off to Kellin and Vic before he wrapped it himself in the living room before handcuffing them to the bed and going off to a Neil’s Christmas party. That had been months ago and Kellin had forgotten about Eddie’s life outside of the hell he called home. 

Until the night he said his friends were coming over. He smiled a wicked, twisted grin when he said it and the way Vic started trembling told Kellin that something very awful was about to happen. Vic threw up shortly after Eddie mentioned Neil and Trent would be joining them for the evening. He came back out of the bathroom crying and sat on the floor by Eddie’s feet afterwards. 

Kellin slid off the couch in order to sit beside him on the floor—Eddie’s legs between them—and reached out to rub his shoulder. He wanted to ask why Vic was so afraid, but he already knew why…he just didn’t want to admit it. 

Vic continued to choke on little sobs as he nuzzled Eddie’s knee slowly. He didn’t look at Kellin or acknowledge him at all. Not until the dog began barking loudly and Eddie stood from the couch. He stepped outside and that was when Vic lunged for Kellin, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him as tightly as he could—as if he expected Kellin to try running away from him. 

“Just do what they say, Kellin. Just do what they say.”

“What—What are you talking about?” Kellin asked, even though he knew. Any friends of Eddie’s who were in on his dark secret were bound to be men of the same sort. The type of men to relish in the breaking of inferior beings.

“Don’t fight them. You can’t win. Just behave. Just be good, okay?” Vic cried, kissing Kellin on the cheek over and over before finally kissing him on the lips. Kellin kissed back as hard as he could, embracing Vic tightly. He could feel the man’s pulse through his chest—could feel his own heart pounding.

“Whatever they do, I’ll take care of you. I promise,” Kellin whispered, whishing he could promise something better. What he wouldn’t give to be able to promise protection… He’d take all the blows if he could—if Eddie’s cruelty allowed it.

Vic buried his face in Kellin’s chest and sobbed, his entire body shaking as three men burst through the door—Eddie and his two cohorts. 

It started as soon as they were inside. Eddie kicked Vic in the side and ordered him to serve them all beers. Kellin was commanded to sit on the couch and keep the two men company. He had to sit still while they touched him and watched a sports game on the television. Once Vic brought the alcohol, he was pulled into the fattest man’s lap and was made to stay there. The fat man, Neil, kept putting his hand between Vic’s legs and was delighted in how distraught the touches made his victim. 

Kellin was the next one ordered to bring drinks—then snacks—then more booze. Eddie made a show of manhandling him, then forced him to straddle the other man’s hips so his throat could be kissed by the vile man. For the time being, Vic had stopped crying but once he gained his composure, Neil started to torment him more. 

Unspeakable things happened that night, things Kellin would forever wish he could erase from his brain. When the men were too rough with him, Eddie would stop them. He’d jokingly sneer that Kellin was too weak to put up with the abuse but one time even shouted at Trent that he’d taken it too far and he wasn’t allowed to “play” with Kellin anymore. 

When the same things and worse happened to Vic, Eddie just laughed. Vic wasn’t worth anything to him anymore—not alive, not dead. It didn’t matter if Vic was bleeding. It didn’t matter if Vic was crying or choking or hyperventilating. It didn’t matter if Vic was still breathing at all. 

They all raped him, made him say things—made him make noises in order to degrade him. Kellin was stuck watching, helpless and hurting as well. Vic wouldn’t open his eyes or look at any of them—he wouldn’t reach out his hand for Kellin to take. He was alone in the torture. When his body finally lay limp and lifeless, they left him alone and returned to drinking and watching the television. 

Kellin didn’t trust that it was over—even when they men both stood to leave. He expected another round to break out. He expected Eddie to pin him while one of the two had their way with him. But no one even passed him a glance as Eddie showed them out. They all stood in the yard by their trucks and talked and talked and laughed and laughed the way drunken men do. 

Kellin moved from the place where he’d been deposited on the couch to peer down at the floor where Vic lay, unmoving. 

Kellin called out to him, barely able to manage a whisper after the tortures his throat had been put through, but Vic didn’t respond. He lay there, naked and bloodied, completely still. 

Letting out a strangled moan of pain, Kellin leaned forward in order to touch Vic’s cheek. The man didn’t even twitch his bruised face. Kellin fell back against the couch, his eyes squeezed shut in pain and dread though tears leaked from them regardless. He was too afraid to look closer and check to see if Vic was still breathing. 

Eddie would have to be the one to find out.

As he waited for his evil captor to return, Kellin struggled to decide whether he should be sad or happy that Vic was gone. If Vic died, his suffering was over. No longer would he have to feel Eddie’s repulsive touch. No longer would he have to endure beatings on top of beatings.

But if he’d died, his last moments had been ones of pain and fear and anguish. His last words would’ve been the sick things his torturers made him say—not even cries for help or mercy. 

Kellin covered his ears when he heard the door open and close again. He wasn’t going to listen to anything Eddie had to say. He wasn’t going to hear him report whether Vic needed cleaned up or disposed of in the cellar. He screamed when Eddie touched him, still holding his hands to his ears—resisting when Eddie tried to pry them back. 

He cried for Eddie to leave him alone. Just leave him… More than anything he just wanted time to stop. He wanted this night to stop.

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic came to as he was thrown into a tub of cold water. Eddie dropped him and let his head smack hard against the wall of the shower, his tailbone and shoulder crashing onto the floor of the tub with a resonating thud. Oh how quickly the water turned orange with blood. 

The cold water stung his skin and chilled him to his core, and he was as frightened as he was pained. He could barely move and his struggling caused his face to go under the water several times before he finally found a position in which he could lay to keep his head above water. 

He stayed there, trembling, afraid of what came next while still trying to make sense of what was happening now. Was he going to be raped again? Were Eddie’s friends still in the house waiting to pounce on him again and tear him apart? And what of Kellin? Was he in as bad of shape as Vic, or worse? 

Vic cried when Eddie walked away. He was terrified of his keeper, but the loneliness scared him more. What if he fainted and drowned? What if he gave in and drowned himself? The pain mounted and mounted until he was screaming and couldn’t stop himself. Horrors played out in his memories—shame and humiliation cutting him deeper than any physical wound he’d gotten from the attacks. 

“Shh—Vic? I’m here.” A gentle hand touched his naked back, then another hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him up. “Let’s get you some warm water, huh? You’re freezing, honey. Let’s get you warm.”

The tub was drained, but Vic lost all ability to keep his focus. He knew when he was touched, but otherwise everything was mixture of yellow lights and white hot pain. He bled and suffered, then was picked up by Eddie and tossed on the floor of the bedroom. He was kicked and told he had to sleep on the ground like the dog, like the _filth_ he was. Still naked, derived of both a pillow and blanket, Vic made to sleep—desperate to find it and escape the agony of his body…desperate to find something more permanent than sleep when he closed his eyes.

He must’ve found sleep, though it was deep and dreamless. The next thing he knew the bedroom was full of light and he was staring a ball of dust on the floor by his head. A blanket had been dropped over him and a pillow lay beside his head. Slowly, he reached out and pulled the white cushion toward him and lifted his neck, wincing and whimpering at how stiff his neck had become overnight. Part of his body felt numb, but when he shifted his legs to get the blanket around more of him, pain shot through him again and set off every ache from the night before. 

He whined softly and closed his eyes, tears making their way past his eyelids and rolling down his cheeks. He felt so dismal and hopeless. His body was completely useless and broken and his will had gone along with it. Nothing comforted him—not a single thought. 

He didn’t want to escape anymore. He wanted to die. He was ready to die and let this awful place go. It no longer mattered if God couldn’t find him… God wasn’t real. The God Vic knew of would never let such an awful thing happen. It no longer mattered if his body was given a proper burial alongside family members in a well-known place. So long as he was dead, Vic didn’t even care if his corpse stayed in one piece. 

“Vic, let’s get you on the bed, okay? Eddie’s gone. He won’t be home until late, he said. I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” 

Vic slowly opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. He saw Kellin’s sock-clad feet and focused on them as they drew nearer to him. When they got too close, he whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut again. He anticipated a kick even though he knew it was the very last thing _Kellin_ would ever do to him. 

“Shh—It’s okay. This might hurt, but we’ve gotta get you off the floor.” 

The next thing Vic knew, Kellin had hooked his hands under his arms and was pulling him—up onto his feet then guiding him down onto the bed. Vic screamed, utterly shameless, as he was moved. He felt something wet running down the back of his thigh and when he looked down, the floor on which he’d been laying was stained red. When he sat on the bed, the blankets turned red. 

He was bleeding. He was still bleeding and it was very, very bad. 

“Kellin?” Vic stammered, his throat aching.

“I know,” Kellin whispered, kissing Vic on the cheek before pushing gently on his shoulder until Vic laid down amongst the blankets and soft pillows. “I’m going to get a towel and wash cloth. I’ll be right back.”

Vic nuzzled the pillow and cried as he waited. Things were looking grim… If he was still bleeding so heavily, it wasn’t going to stop on its own and nothing Kellin could offer would stop it either. He was going to bleed out in such a revolting, humiliating way… He began to believe, as he waited and waited for Kellin to return, that it was a good thing no one would ever find his body. No one would learn the shameful way he’d died…

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic couldn’t hang on to consciousness for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Kellin came back to the room and had started washing up the blood from between Vic’s legs. Vic cried out a few more times in pain, then slipped away into the darkness of his mind again. 

He wasn’t going to survive. Kellin knew that right away. There was far too much blood and the dismissive way which Eddie treated him the night before and that moment told Kellin that Vic would be dead before the night was over whether he succumbed to his injuries or not. Eddie would finish him off if he still clung to life by the time he returned. 

Kellin didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t sit here and watch Vic die, but he couldn’t leave his side either—not to make lunch, not to do the chores. He needed to think of something, and fast. 

Vic was dying. He woke up every now and then to cry and grip at Kellin’s shirt, but did little more than that. He would tremble and reciprocate kisses, then cry more and go back to sleep. 

Kellin couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t just sit there and watch Vic die… He had to do something. 

What did it matter if he got mauled by the dog? What did it matter if he was killed now when Vic wasn’t going to be alive much longer to suffer the consequences that came from failure?

He had to try. He had to try one last time to get past the fence and find someone who could help. Vic didn’t deserve die like this when he didn’t have to. Kellin couldn’t live with himself if he let fear keep him from saving the man he’d come to love. 

When Vic came around again, Kellin made him drink some water and kissed him as deeply as he could—savoring it even though Vic had difficulty kissing back. He stroked Vic’s hair and cupped the back of his neck, giving him all the affection he could. Vic’s crying turned to a soft cooing noise as he settled back down into the blankets once Kellin let him go. 

“I’m going to go…make some lunch,” Kellin whispered, unwilling to cause Vic any more stress by telling him the truth. 

“Then come sleep with me?” Vic asked, his voice shaking. 

“Yeah,” Kellin said, offering him a smile. “Just hang in there a little longer, okay?”

“Okay,” Vic murmured. Kellin stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching him as he drifted off yet again. He didn’t look peaceful at all. His brow was furrowed in pain and his body still trembled until sleep claimed him again and every part of him went limp. 

He didn’t look peaceful…he looked dead. 

Kellin went into the kitchen and parted the curtain in order to look out at the backyard. The dog was there, sleeping next to its house. 

He could try to run… It was the only hope either of them had. But if he made it outside the fence and found there was no help to be had, he would have to get back inside the yard without getting mauled to death upon his return. 

Getting back in would he harder than getting out… The dog would hear him climbing the fence right away and would come running. He’d never make it back into the house.

He couldn’t leave with the dog still alive. He had to kill it…and fast. Vic didn’t have much time left and every minute Kellin spent staring at the dog, biting back nausea and tears, was a drain on Vic’s life force. He couldn’t afford to waste time. He had to act—and now. 

Kellin hurried into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, looking over the drugs inside. There were still cold pills left over from when Eddie had brought Vic up from the cellar and Kellin seized them. It didn’t matter if the dog died—all that mattered was it went to sleep. And cold pills would put it to sleep. 

He took the pills with him to the kitchen and tossed them on the counter before opening the fridge and looking for meat. There was bacon and sausage on the lower shelf, but four raw pork chops on the top shelf. Eddie wanted them for dinner that night, but Kellin would rather die than cook one more meal for the monster.

Kellin crushed the pills in a bowl, then cut a slit in middle of the pork chop and filled it with the powder. His hands were shaking as he opened the kitchen window. The noise of the wooden frame sliding upwards was enough to wake the dog. It lifted its head and sniffed the air, seemingly unable to pinpoint from where the noise had come. 

Kellin grabbed the knife back off the counter and used it to slice through the screen. He didn’t even hesitate. It didn’t matter if Eddie saw the damage. Vic was going to die and Kellin would rather die with him that suffer here without him. 

The dog growled and started walking toward the window, but as soon as the raw chunk of meat was tossed through the gash in the screen, all of its focus was on the food.

Kellin watched as it sniffed and licked the poisoned offering, and then began to grin as he saw it take the pork into its jaws. In no time at all it had eaten the entire thing.

Soon enough… Soon enough it was going to sleep—or die. 

As he expected, the dog went from idly wandering around the yard to tucking its tail and laying down. It trembled and gagged through nothing came up, and chewed on grass before anxiously circling the yard some more. Finally, after nearly forty minutes, it collapsed.

Kellin grabbed the knife off the counter again and started for the front door. He kept it in his right hand as he pulled open the door and slowly, quietly stepped outside. He was shaking, but he still felt a strange calm wash over him as he walked with a cautious step towards the fence. This was his only option. He couldn’t mess up now—he _wouldn’t_ mess up now. Vic was counting on him and Kellin was their only hope. 

Eddie had stolen everything else from him. He couldn’t let the man take Vic from him too. Not without a fight. 

Once he reached the fence, Kellin slipped the knife into his belt and started to climb. He let himself hesitate only a moment when he’d reached the razor-wire top, wishing he’d grabbed a towel or two to cushion his hands against the sharp points. It wasn’t enough to stop him, though. He wasn’t able to spare himself being cut and slit open on the palms, but he’d been put through so much worse. 

By the time he reached the other side of the fence and jumped down, his adrenaline levels were so high he could hear little more than his pulse in his ears. He stared through the fence at the house where he’d been trapped—where Vic remained trapped—then turned and ran. 

He followed the length of Eddie’s remote driveway to a gravel road with a mailbox at its end. The house number was 2119. He committed it to memory, then ran to his right. There was nothing alongside the road except more fences and dried up fields. The sun was beating down on his back and burning at the exposed skin of his arms, but after he’d run until his lungs began to burn, another house came into view.

It was just as small and dilapidated as Eddie’s, but it was the only hope Kellin had. He stopped only a moment to catch his breath and to wipe the blood off his hands onto his the side of his jeans, then he started down the driveway. 

He wanted to feel hopeful, but fear infected him. What if Eddie was here? What if one of the men who hurt Vic lived in this place? The world outside of Eddie’s house was almost more terrifying to Kellin than inside. He knew what to expect from Eddie—the outside world had endless possibilities for cruelties he couldn’t even imagine. 

When he was halfway to the house, the front door swung inward and a man appeared. As soon as he spotted him, Kellin froze. He wanted to turn and run, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Vic needed him. Vic needed him to be _brave._

Not everyone was an enemy. Not every man was out to hurt him.

Kellin took another step forward, trying to think of something he could say while still trying to analyze the man’s form. He was too short to be either of Eddie’s friends—at least either of the two Kellin had seen. The easiest option seemed to be scream for help, but the man’s right arm was held just out of view behind the doorframe. 

Kellin feared if he started screaming, the man might produce a gun and shoot him dead before he even finished the word “help.” He was in the middle of nowhere. His palms were bloody and his clothes were ripped. The very last thing he looked to be was trustworthy.

“You’ll stop right there if you know what’s good for ya!” The man called.

“I need help!” Kellin called, stopping about ten feet back from the house. The man was elderly, but far from feeble. As Kellin expected, he pulled a shotgun into view and had it aimed at Kellin’s head in no time at all.

“You’re gonna need more than that if you come any closer!”

“Sir, please!” Kellin called, raising his hands defensively, forgetting in a moment of terror and desperation that his palms were stained in blood. 

The man took one look at them and cocked the gun—ready, now, to shoot instead of brandishing the gun just for show.

“I’m not fallin’ for that shit again! You turn around or I’m gonna blow your goddamned brains out!”

“Please, just the cops!” Kellin begged, backing away a step. He couldn’t take his eyes off the barrel of the gun. If he died out here, Vic would be helpless. If he didn’t die before Eddie got home, Eddie would surely beat him to death or torture him until he quit breathing. He didn’t want that—Vic didn’t deserve that.

Kellin had to go back to the house, even if he help wasn’t coming. He couldn’t leave Vic to face Eddie alone.

“This ain’t between us and the cops! This is between you and me. You think I don’t recognize you!?”

“Sir, _please!_ I-I just need the police! Just call 911!” Kellin screamed when the man fired a shot that kicked up dust a few inches to his left. 

“You’re not getting in my house to call nobody! I told you the last time you broke in I was gonna blow your brains out the next time I saw ya!”

“I-I’ve never even seen you before! Please, Sir! _Please!_ My friend needs help—I just need you to call 911! I-I won’t move from right here, just _please—!”_

Another shot was fired and Kellin stumbled backwards. He didn’t know this man. He didn’t _want_ to know this man. 

He said nothing else, just turned to run away as a third shot rang out. The world out here seemed so hostile compared to what Kellin had back in the suburbs. If someone called for help, everyone dialed 911. People didn’t brandish guns and take the law into their own hands.

Kellin ran back in the direction of Eddie’s house and passed it—going the other way in search of help, looking over his shoulder every few feet expecting to see the psychotic old man. 

He ran and ran until he collapsed. There was _nothing_ out here, just dirt and dust and the brutal sunlight. Kellin covered his face with his hands and cried, sobbing harder once he realized he’d coated his skin in blood. No one would help him now…

Even when he tried to wipe his face off on his t-shirt, he could tell there was still died blood on his face. No one out here in the desert was going to stop and help a crazed looking boy with blood on his face. They’d think he murdered someone and would probably be too absorbed in their own affairs to bother calling 911 to report it. 

He was _out._ He’d gotten out but there was _nothing_ for him beyond the fence—just the same hopelessness and lingering sense of panic. 

Kellin lost track of the time he spent sitting in the ditch. Three cars were all that blew past him—one of which was driven by teenagers his own age who chucked a bottle of soda at his head as they flew by. 

That was what caused him to begin his retreat. 

Eddie chose his home perfectly for his goals. It was isolated and surrounded by people just as vile and wicked as he.


	11. Chapter 11

Kellin sat in Eddie’s bed, the knife under the pillow behind his back and Vic draped over his chest. He had his chin rested on the top of Vic’s head and was slowly rubbing the other man’s back. Every now and then Vic would whimper and open his eyes, but he never spoke. 

He was dying… 

Vic was bleeding out and there was nothing Kellin could do. 

Kellin lifted his head when Vic started squirming against him, releasing his constrictive hold so Vic could resituate. He thought to offer him water or food, but what was the point? He’d throw it up or choke on it…

“Kellin?” Vic moaned, his voice shaking.

“I’m here,” Kellin said, rubbing Vic’s back again as the man settled down. 

“Kellin?”

“Yes, I’m here…”

“What time is it?” 

“Don’t worry. He’s not coming home any time soon…”

“Kellin?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t feel very good…”

“I know, but help’s coming, Vic.”

“Huh?” He tried pulling back from Kellin’s chest, but Kellin held him still. He didn’t need Vic straining himself when he was so weak already.

“I got us help, Vic. The…the police are coming. They’re going to take you to the hospital.”

“Police? How?” Vic asked, squirming against Kellin’s chest until he let him go.

“I got out,” Kellin said, showing Vic his palms. Vic stared at them, looking equally worried and surprised. “I got help…”

“Y-You got out?”

“Yeah,” Kellin said, reaching out to stroke Vic’s arm with the backs of his knuckles. 

“And you came back for me?”

“Mhm.” Kellin hated that he was lying, but he couldn’t look Vic in the face and tell him what he really had planned. 

“Wh-when are they coming?” Vic asked, looking toward the bedroom window as if he expected to see the flashing lights of cop cars. 

“Soon. You should lay back down. Don’t strain yourself.” Kellin offered Vic a weak smile, but couldn’t look him in the eye. 

Vic sighed quietly and laid down at Kellin’s side, breathing heavily as if he’d exerted himself. 

“Kellin?”

“Yes?”

Vic continued to pant and closed his eyes, exhausted just by sitting up and moving off of Kellin’s body. 

“I don’t feel very good,” Vic repeated.

“Help’s coming. I promise,” Kellin said, shifting down to lay at Vic’s side.

“What if Eddie gets here first?” Vic whimpered.

“Don’t worry. No one’s going to hurt you…” Kellin stared at Vic’s face as the man drifted off again. His brow was furrowed with pain and Kellin turned his gaze away. He wished there were more he could do besides wait for Eddie to come. 

He started petting Vic’s hair and hummed softly, trying to think up a tune to keep himself calm as he waited. When he settled on a melody, Vic’s lips twitched with a small grin. He could still hear Kellin singing to him, no matter how far into the dark he’d slipped. 

“You deserve much more…and I’ll give until I’m all gone,” Kellin murmured, slowly piecing lines together. How many times did Vic plead for Kellin to sing to him? Just one line, he’d begged. Just a line. “Forever know your face…and ever take your place here by my side. Like a ghost into the night…” 

Vic let out a quiet, appreciative hum and shifted a tiny bit closer.

Outside, Kellin saw headlights flash on the bedroom window.

“You deserve much more,” he continued, his heart starting to pound as the headlights drew nearer. He lost track of his melody and found himself whispering in Vic’s ear—promising him everything would be alright as he held him as close as he could. “I’ll give you my all…’cause you deserve much more. You deserve much more.”

Kellin struggled to keep his breathing even as he heard the car pull up. Dinner was on the table—poisoned with crushed pills Eddie would no doubt taste.

That was fine. Kellin had a plan and the food was only a backup. 

He just had to gather his strength and follow through. He couldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t second guess himself. 

“Is that the police?” Vic asked, opening his eyes when the front door opened. 

“No, Baby, but don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just be quiet, okay?” Kellin pressed one last kiss on Vic’s lips before pulling away and sitting up, his hand tucked behind him and wrapped around the handle of the kitchen knife. 

“Where the hell you at!?” Eddie boomed. The front door slammed behind him. “First the mutt, now you two pieces of shit?”

He appeared in doorway of the bedroom and scowled at Kellin who trembled under his gaze. 

“I told you to leave him on the floor,” Eddie said. 

“He’s hurt,” Kellin snapped.

“He’s a bleeding mess. Put him back on the floor before I smash his fuckin’ head in.”

“No,” Kellin said. 

“Kellin?” Vic whimpered, his eyes opening and showing just as much fear as he’d had the night before when the men had taken him and ripped him apart. 

Kellin tightened his hold on the knife as Eddie came nearer. He reached for Vic’s shoulder, preparing to grab him and throw him on the floor. That was when Kellin lunged.

As soon as Eddie put his hand on Vic’s shoulder, Kellin brandished the knife and sank it into Eddie’s hand. The man let out a ferocious growl and drew back, shaking his hand and pulling it back to his chest. 

Kellin moved forward on the bed, drawing the fight away from Vic who rolled onto his back with a quiet screech. 

“You little whore,” Eddie growled, stomping to the foot of the bed and reaching for Kellin’s arm. He expected Kellin to show him fear, to whimper and submit and beg for forgiveness. But Kellin had nothing left to lose. Vic was dying and Kellin wasn’t going to live here without him. He would rather be beaten to death than survive another night underneath Eddie’s friends. 

When Eddie lunged at him, Kellin lifted the blade and swung it at Eddie with all of his force. The man seized his wrist and started pushing him backwards. Kellin knew if his back hit the bed, it was over for him. Eddie would start choking him and beating him the way he had his first night in the house. 

Never again. 

Kellin could _never_ let that happen again. 

He screamed and kept twisting his arm until he got it free, his other hand shoving against Eddie’s chest. As soon as he got his hand free, he jabbed the blade forward—slamming it into Eddie’s shoulder and yanking it back. 

The blade made a sickening noise as it was pulled free of Eddie’s flesh, and blood began gushing out the open wound. As Eddie reeled backwards in pain, Kellin lunged again—aiming this time for the man’s throat. 

He raised his hands to defend himself, stumbling backwards as Kellin swung the knife toward him again and again. 

“Kellin?” Vic started screaming. Over and over he called his name while Eddie roared and the knife sang out its own sick tune. 

Kellin, too, growled as he stood up on the bed. His balance was jeopardized, but even that served its purpose as he fell forward onto Eddie, succeeding in toppling the large man to the floor. 

Again and again the knife found its mark, even when Eddie’s bloodied hand slammed up into Kellin’s nose. The force sent him backwards, giving Eddie time to roll over and begin crawling away—croaking as he struggled to breathe, struggled to scream. 

Kellin took only a moment to recover before he raised the knife again. This time he plunged it into the middle of Eddie’s back.

The blow left Eddie laying limp on the floor, gurgling out screams as Kellin began feeling around the man’s pockets until he seized the man’s cell phone. He kept the knife in one hand as he dialed 911 with shaking fingers. 

The phone barely even rang before an operator answered, asking the location of his emergency. 

“I killed him,” Kellin said, even though Eddie was still very much alive. He wouldn’t be though, Kellin would make sure of that, by the time the police did arrive. 

“Excuse me?” The operator asked.

“I killed him,” Kellin repeated, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. With all of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kellin was beginning to feel drunk—a laugh came out alongside his explanation. “He came home and I—I stabbed him.”

“You stabbed him?” The operator asked.

“H-He won’t hurt Vic anymore,” Kellin said, looking up at the bed where Vic sat shaking. He was sobbing and covering his face, traumatized as opposed to impressed with Vic’s heroics. 

The operator asked his name, then asked the address. All Kellin could repeat were the numbers he’d seen on the mailbox outside—2119. He didn’t know the street. He didn’t know the city. All he knew was 2119 and Eddie. 

“I need you to stay on the line with me until the officers arrive, okay? We’re trying to trace the call, okay? So we can get your exact location. Are you sure you can’t find any bills or envelopes with an address on them?”

“No!—I told you! He doesn’t bring them in the house!” Kellin yelled, standing up as Eddie tried to drag himself through the bedroom doorway. They were going to send an ambulance and Kellin wasn’t going to allow Eddie to have it. He didn’t deserve to live.

Vic was already slumped over on the bed, his cries nothing more than shaky breaths. 

He needed all the help he could get. Eddie deserved none of it. 

The operator was trying to probe him for more information when Kellin set the phone down on the foot of the bed. All he saw was tinted in red as he walked toward Eddie, his hands still shaking as he let his rage and hatred take hold. 

He was determined that there be nothing left of Eddie by the time the cops arrived. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Officer Rawlins swore that in all her years on the force, she’d never walked in on a scene so bloody. After having to cut through a padlock on the outside fence, she and her partner pulled up to the house. The lights were all on, casting a yellow glow onto the black ground. The ambulance was a couple miles behind, but Rawlins feared it would be too late as the report suggested—one man dead, the assailant still at the home and still armed. 

She and her partner walked up the steps, and knocked on the open door before stepping inside. There was a man standing by the kitchen sink who didn’t even turn when she called out to him. He was washing his hands and arms, though blood was smeared all over the back of his shirt and jeans.   
!moved slowly, as if in a trance, and didn’t even move when Rawlins’ partner, Officer Mosley, came up behind him and cuffed him. When the man was turned around, Rawlins’ stomach sank. 

It wasn’t a man. It was an emaciated boy with sunken in eyes and a look of pure terror in his face. A junkie, perhaps, or even an escaped psychiatric patient. Whoever this boy was, he looked sorry to be there. He’d been trying to scrub the blood out of the front of his shirt but to no avail. He’d washed his face but there were still clots of blood in his tangled black hair.

“You wanna tell us what happened tonight?” Mosely asked as he guided the boy forward. 

“H-He came home and I stabbed him,” the boy said, sniffing before collapsing into to tears—his legs literally giving out and leaving him on the floor. “Vic won’t wake up.”

“Kid, he’s dead,” Mosely said, passing a look to Rawlins who shook her head. He didn’t seem to be strung out on drugs, but he was definitely confused. The man on the floor looked to have been gutted yet the boy seemed devastated by the news.

“No he’s not! Don’t say that!” The boy screamed. “He was breathing! I left him in bed—he was _breathing!”_

Rawlins stepped over to the corpse, swallowing hard to keep back the contents of her stomach. The man had been stabbed in the face, his eyes seeming to take the most of the blows. Everything else was a smear of red blood and, Rawlins discovered upon closer inspection, the man had been castrated as well though the genitals were nowhere to be found on the floor next to the body. 

She moved away from the body to finish checking the house. That was when she spotted another man laying curled into a ball on the bed—covered in crimson-stained blankets. 

She placed her gun back into the holster as she neared the bed and slowly pulled back the sheet. Another young man, not much older than the boy crying on the floor in the kitchen and even thinner, lay curled into a tight ball. His skin was gray and his eyes open—staring blankly ahead. Rawlins reached down to touch his neck, feeling for a pulse though doubtful she’d find one.

Even so, there was a gentle thrum beneath her fingertips. He was alive, but just barely. 

Rawlins radioed back to the operator to give her an update—one deceased, one in critical condition, and one suspect in custody. 

Rawlins stayed with the man in the bed until the paramedics arrived. She tried to examine him, to see if there were any wounds she could help to treat—but the source of his bleeding quickly became apparent and there was nothing she could do. 

As the paramedics carried the man out of the bedroom on the gurney, Rawlins heard the boy in the living room begin screaming the name “Vic” over and over, pleading to go with him. 

More officers arrived and Rawlins had Mosely take the boy to their patrol car for safekeeping while the investigators began sweeping the house. 

“Has he said anything?” She asked Mosely after the door to the car closed. The two officers walked back toward the house but hesitated to go back inside. 

“He told me his name and says the dead guy, Eddie, kidnapped him and Vic—” He gestured toward the ambulance that was making its way through the narrow opening in the fence. “—and that he stabbed him so he wouldn’t hurt Vic.” 

“Kidnapped?”

“Yeah. I didn’t get a last name for Vic, but we can still run the boy through the system and see what pops up.”

They talked a moment about whether they should take the boy to the jail or the hospital given the circumstances, then decided against the jailhouse. One of the other officers checked his name and identification which brought up a positive match for one Kellin Bostwick, age seventeen—sixteen on the date of his disappearance. The photo which accompanied the original police report depicted a much healthier, vibrant teenager than the one they had handcuffed in their cruiser, but all of the identifying questions they asked him—birthdate, parents’ names, hometown—were a match. 

Rawlins and Mosely drove the boy to the hospital while still asking him questions, trying to get all the information that they could before making assumptions—before his parents or lawyers got involved. It wasn’t about building a legal case against the boy, just a matter of understanding. Nothing he said was admissible, Rawlins just wanted to understand what it took to make a seventeen-year-old boy destroy a fifty-six-year-old man. 

The key, it seemed, was Vic.

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin, coming down from his adrenaline high, couldn’t stop shaking as he sat in the hospital bed. There was an officer outside his room to make sure he didn’t try to run away and he would’ve been kept handcuffed to the bed if he hadn’t begged to be loose and promised to be good. 

A nurse had cleaned up his hands and arms, and had wrapped them in bandages while he waited for his mother to come. No one would tell him what had become of Vic or if he was even alive. He’d fallen limp on the bed after Kellin delivered the fatal strike to Eddie’s neck and Kellin couldn’t get him to respond to any touches at all. No words, no songs, no kisses brought him out of it. He just stared ahead with empty eyes and Kellin had had to let him go.

Eddie’s death, he decided, wasn’t justice for Vic. He returned to Eddie’s body and exacted the revenge he wished he could’ve had while the man was still breathing. 

The cops kept asking him how he’d ended up in the house and why he’d killed Eddie—every now and then they tried asking more about Vic and Kellin was so overwhelmed with shame at his inability to give a full answer. 

He’d been with Vic nearly a year yet he didn’t even know his last name—or his mother’s name, or his father’s. He knew Vic had a brother and that he loved music and could play guitar, but that wasn’t enough. He knew Vic was kind and gentle, and that all he wanted in the world was to go home, but that wasn’t enough either.

Kellin prayed he hadn’t failed him. He wished the nurses would tell him what was happening to his friend—his boyfriend. 

Then his mother arrived. Kellin remembered how they’d left off—how they’d fought and he’d packed his bag and stormed out. His mother let him go, telling him he’d be back, that he was going to see how hard it was to find shelter and he’d come crawling back home.

They’d fought about her fiancé who had moved in without either of them asking how Kellin felt about it. But when his mother burst into the room, she was alone. She got her arms around Kellin before he could even really make sense of what was happening and hugged him tight, her head pressed against his as she cried and rocked back and forth.

Kellin half expected her to stop after a moment and scold him—give him a lecture full of “I told you so”s and “what did you think would happen”s. But she didn’t. She just held him and cried and smoothed his hair while thanking God that he was alive. After nearly ten minutes of being held and rocked back and forth, Kellin was let go and his mother started examining him—running his hands down his arms and touching the bruises on his face.

“What happened to you?—What did they do to you?” 

Kellin turned his eyes away from her to stare at the hospital bed’s thin blankets. He couldn’t tell her. He was sure the police would say everything to her anyway—about how they’d found him covered in blood, how he’d cried like a fool when they handcuffed him, how he’d stabbed a man to death and then mutilated his corpse. 

He bet his mother wouldn’t want to hold him then. She would want nothing to do with him once she learned what he’d become.

As expected, about thirty minutes after they were reunited, the female officer who had arrested him and brought him to the hospital stepped into the room with her partner. 

“Ma’am, my name is Officer Rawlins, this is Officer Mosely. We’re the officers who responded to the 911 call involving your son. Could we talk to you in the hallway for a moment?”

His mother looked from the officers down at him, looking reluctant to leave his side for even a moment.

“We won’t take long.”

“Okay,” she whispered, kissing Kellin on the cheek and hugging him a final time before standing up from the bed to follow the officers. She probably wouldn’t want to touch him again after she learned how tainted and gross he was. 

Not long after she’d left the room, Kellin heard her scream. It startled him and he sat up in the bed, fearful that somehow Eddie had survived and he’d come back to hurt him—and found his mother first. She screamed like she’d been shot then just kept wailing as the officers told her to calm down and breathe. Kellin nestled down against his pillows and shivered, fearful of what came now.

He knew he’d committed murder, and even if Eddie was so, so deserving of what he’d gotten, the law might not see it that way. Now that his mother was here, the police could question him—interrogate him. They could decide to take him out of the hospital and put him in a jail cell, to keep him shackled and chained. 

Kellin swore to them he hadn’t done anything wrong. He killed Eddie to save Vic—he told them about how he’d tried to get out and find help some other way, told them about the crazy old man who tried to shoot him. If there’d been another way, he never would’ve forced himself to kill Eddie the way he had. And once the knife started raining down on Eddie’s body, Kellin couldn’t make himself stop. 

He _wished_ there’d been another way. He promised he wasn’t evil, no matter how bad things looked in the house.

He didn’t want to have to say it all again with his mother sitting there watching him fall apart.

But that was exactly what happened. The officers returned with his mother and asked for a formal statement about what happened at the house that night—just that night, not before. All they wanted to know was why he’d stabbed Eddie, not why he was in the house or why Vic was dying—or dead already. 

Kellin told them about waking up when Eddie left and putting Vic in bed, and explained over and over how bloody and weak he had been. If Vic had been alright, he never would’ve dared to attack Eddie. He explained that he’d tried to find help, gave every descriptor he could about the man who tried to shoot him—even confessed to sitting in the ditch beside the road crying when he realized there was no one around who could help him. They asked why he didn’t keep walking and looking for help and Kellin told them his fears about leaving Vic alone.

If Eddie had come home to find Kellin gone, he would’ve tortured Vic to death and Vic just _didn’t_ deserve that. 

They forced him to go through every detail of what happened when Eddie did return home. Kellin’s mother rubbed his back the whole time—not even pausing her motions when he confessed to stabbing out Eddie’s eyes and castrating him. 

Eddie couldn’t ever catch him if he’d been blinded, and Eddie couldn’t hurt anyone else if he didn’t have his dick anymore. 

“Didn’t you realize he was already dead by that point?” The male officer asked. 

Without much though, Kellin looked up at him and said, “Eddie can’t die.” Even now—even though he’d seen Eddie lifeless with nearly all of his blood spilled out on the floors and walls—Kellin couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was hiding somewhere just out of sight, waiting to get him alone. 

His mother hugged him again after he finished his story, before round two of the questioning came. Now that they’d gotten everything they needed about the murder, they wanted to know the rest of the story—Kellin’s “version” of the story.

He told them about Eddie’s offer for shelter and how he’d been an idiot and gotten into the car. His mother had made a pained noise in the back of her throat when he stuttered through what happened when they got back to the house. She rested her head on his shoulder as he stared at the floor and mumbled out that he’d been beaten up and raped next to Vic who was handcuffed to the bed. 

The whole time he told his story, the officer took notes and would ask questions. Kellin cried as he told them all he could about Vic and the hell Eddie put him through. He told them about Vic being locked in the cellar for three days while Kellin thought he’d been mauled to death by Eddie’s dog.

Finally he got to the events of the night before. His mother, by that point, was sobbing into his shoulder—making him even more uneasy and distraught. He tried to be vague, for her sake, when he described what had happened to Vic that night… 

After he finished describing Eddie’s two friends Neil and Trent, Kellin asked one last time if the officers would please, _please_ check on Vic and tell him how he was. He needed to know if Vic was still breathing or if it was alright to feel like his world was ending.


	12. Chapter 12

She should’ve expected it to turn out this way, but what else could she do? The other boy, Vic, was still in surgery and all the hospital staff would tell her—a non-family member—was that his prognosis looked bleak. Even when she told the staff she was only asking after the boy on behalf of her son, her son who had _saved_ this kid, who had been _tortured_ alongside him, they refused to give her any updates. 

She had no choice. Kellin wouldn’t stop asking her how Vic was doing. He begged to know, begged to be allowed to go see him. He would get himself worked up into hysterics because he wanted to know what became of his friend. She knew it would be a devastating blow, but she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her son tear himself down for days or weeks or however long Vic held on before succumbing to his injuries. 

After asking the staff and receiving the vague answer, she spoke to the police and warned them against mentioning Vic to him again outside of what they needed for their investigations. Kellin’s mental state was so fragile. He didn’t need to be clinging on to empty hopes that his best friend would be getting better when it was so clear to everyone that the other boy wasn’t going to make it.

She returned to the room after steeling herself for what she had to say. It was hard when her son, whom she’d gone so long without seeing, looked up at her huge, hopeful, _desperate_ eyes.

“Kellin,” she’d told him, sitting down on the bed beside and beginning to rub his shoulder. “Vic… He didn’t make it.”

“What?” Kellin’s voice cracked and he stared at her, his eyes going so impossibly wide. 

“He…He didn’t make it. The doctors did everything they could—”

“No!” Kellin screamed, bringing his hands up to his face. “I-I got him out! No! H-He’s not dead!” 

She tried to hug him, but Kellin shoved her away and collapsed in on himself, burying his head against his knees and covering his head with his arms. Heavy sobs turned to screams of grief until Kellin couldn’t even breathe. 

She tried and tried to calm him, but nothing helped. She’d _known_ he’d react badly, but not like this. He wouldn’t let her touch him and he wouldn’t stop _screaming._ He didn’t remind her of her son. He didn’t even remind her of a _human._ Kellin was like an animal that had been struck by a car and left to stagger on the roadside—disoriented, fearful, and in unfathomable amounts of pain. 

Nurses rushed in, thinking something had happened to him. The more people that came, the more upset Kellin got. One of the orderlies—or perhaps it was a doctor or a cop or even a patient that walked by the open door—triggered him worse and he threw himself off the bed. He smacked his head on the wall and that was the only thing that silenced him. 

His mother had tried to grab him before he slipped off the edge, but it happened too fast and she was left leaning over the bed still reaching for him. 

The nurses helped Kellin back into the bed and told him quite firmly that if he acted out again he could be restrained. 

He quit talking altogether after that. He wouldn’t answer anyone. Not even the police when they demanded it. What questions they could have left, his mother couldn’t even imagine. They’d already forced him to describe what he meant by “rape.” They’d already humiliated him. What more could they want?

She knew the only way to stop it was to ask for an attorney, but she didn’t know of one—or if it would help. Kellin wasn’t “under arrest,” he was just a “person of interest.” He’d a killed a man, but the man deserved it—he deserved exactly what he had gotten and anyone who said otherwise was heartless. 

Even so, the police had already informed her that trial would be necessary. Had Kellin just killed the man—had he just stabbed him once or twice none of this would have been necessary. But Kellin stabbed him multiple times and returned to the body after the fact. It was obvious he’d acted in self-defense initially, but there was no reason to gouge the man’s eyes out after the fact. His attacker should’ve been made to answer legally for what he’d done, but knowing he was behind bars wouldn’t give Kellin the same sense of security that knowing he was dead coul.

Even with his abuser dead, Kellin looked to his mother so timid and frightened, skinny beyond malnourishment and so hollow. How could he hurt anyone? How could he stab a man to death and keep hacking at the body? Because he cared so much about “Vic”? Because he was that scared?

She just hoped if she could get Kellin to cooperate then the police would show him mercy. They didn’t want to take him to jail or lock him up in a psychiatric hospital. They wanted him to recover, but they needed to prove he wasn’t a danger to anybody else. 

It was best, they said, if he stayed in the hospital for a few days—for safekeeping and for his health. He was clearly unstable and the medical staff was far more accustomed to handling distraught patients than his mother would be. 

All she wanted was to take her son home where he’d be safe, where she could check on him as he slept, but that wasn’t allowed. She could stay in the hospital, but couldn’t be in the room with him all night. More than anything, they wanted her there to get her consent to torture her child with examination and tests. 

Could they run a rape kit? Could they give him drugs to make him sleep? Could they screen him for STIs? Could they poke him and prod him and terrify him beyond repair? 

He wasn’t crying enough for them, apparently. They needed to violate him with an invasive exam to help “build his case” before the evidence on him—or _in him_ —deteriorated. The officers and medical staff pushed her and pushed her and _guilt tripped_ her until she agreed to their demands. Did she want her son to go to jail? No? Then they needed all the evidence they could get to support his claims that his attacker had actually assaulted him. 

She would never forget the look of betrayal and hurt Kellin gave her as she stepped out of the room so the doctors could do their job and collect their evidence. That look would haunt her forever.

( ) ( ) ( )

Officer Rawlins returned to the house after the body had been taken away. There was still blood everywhere and markers where relevant evidence had been before the investigation team collected it. She was back to find anything she could that may help identify the other boy—the one who was still unconscious after his surgeries. The doctors succeeded in getting his bleeding to stop, then had to remove a broken rib that had moved out of place. He had multiple infections, countless wounds, and severe inflammation in his abdomen. 

He had suffer so much, but he was still breathing and his condition appeared stable when she’d left the hospital. He deserved to have his family with him when he awoke—if he awoke—and that was what Rawlins had returned to the house to find. Kellin insisted that Eddie would have Vic’s wallet somewhere in the house. The wallet would have identification of some kind, Rawlins hoped. Even a health insurance card would be useful to her if Vic didn’t have a driver’s license or school ID.

There were still workers combing the scene, though most seemed to be down in the cellar. A dead animal was laying the backyard though no one was bothering with that. Kellin had told them he poisoned it with cold medicine so he could get out and Rawlins didn’t blame him for that. She had seen the scars on him from the dog’s jaws and had seen the infected wound on Vic’s side from being bitten.

Rawlins searched the bedroom first, hoping to find a wallet in one of the dresser drawers or in the end table. The drawer of the nightstand held _repulsive_ contents, nothing she wanted to see, and the dressers held only clothing. In a box on the floor of the closet, however, she found a stack of photographs—some old, some stamped with dates from over three years past. 

Most seemed to be of the two boys together—posed on the bed or the couch (fully clothed) looking at the camera nervously. With each photo she turned over, Rawlins expected to find something distasteful, but the worst was of the boys being forced to kiss each other—or so it seemed. Kellin was looking at the camera with fear while the other boy had his eyes closed and his lips pressed to the corner of Kellin’s mouth. There were photos of all three of them together with Eddie smiling and the boys looking terrified. 

Then came the worst photo. It was of Vic, stamped for March three years ago. He was underneath another man, crying and his eyes squeezed shut. Rawlins quickly set it back in the box and replaced the lid, trying to dispel the image from her mind. She founded ripped clothing, discarded hats and old pairs of shoes—then a backpack stuffed into the corner. 

The backpack, it turned out, belonged to Kellin and held his wallet with no cash left, just IDs, a gift card for Subway and a ticket stub with a heart drawn on the back. Rawlins left the bag sitting outside of the closet and moved out of the bedroom, doing her best to sidestep the dried pool of blood where the man had been laying.

She turned her attention, instead, to the man’s desk and file cabinet along the side of the living room area. The investigation team had already taken the computer, but the cabinet was untouched. She had to pick the lock to get the drawers to open and was faced with stacks of papers—tax documents, employment forms, billing statements. It wasn’t until she reached the bottom drawer that she finally found a wallet. 

Just like Kellin’s, this wallet had had all of the money taken out of it and the only things left were a student ID and two driver’s licenses. One was clearly fraudulent (but probably convincing enough to allow “Enricay Hernandez” access to a bar) but the other was a license that was set to expire when the boy, Victor Fuentes, turned twenty-one. It expired February of last year. Vic had turned twenty-two in this hell.

( ) ( ) ( )

His mind was hazy, but he could still feel someone clutching at his hand. He tried to squeeze it in return, but his fingers hardly twitched. It had to be Kellin—hurting or scared—and it made Vic so anxious that he couldn’t hold his hand. What if Kellin thought Vic was ignoring him?—Or mad at him? 

Vic whined and tried harder to get his hand to move. His body felt so numb. He couldn’t even get his eyes to open. All he could do was whimper and twitch his fingers, and hope that it was enough to keep Kellin from worrying. 

He tried harder and harder to move but to no avail. His head was spinning and the temptation to just go back to sleep was begin to win out over his desire to be there for Kellin. What use could he be at giving comfort when he couldn’t even open his eyes?

“Vic?” The voice was unfamiliar to him, and the shock of it was enough to get his sleepy eyes to snap open, almost of their own free will. Instead of being faced with Eddie’s stained, yellowed ceiling, Vic stared up at white tile and fluorescent lights. It took several tries to keep his eyes open long enough to focus on anything above him. All the while, whoever it was that clutched at his hand squeezed it harder and repeated his name over and over.

He felt a cold hand on his cheek and cringed away from it, turning his face away from the fingers which began combing through his hair.

Whoever this person was, they weren’t Kellin. Nothing in this place was familiar and it terrified him that he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten here. What if Eddie had traded him to one of his friends?

“Vic? Honey?”

Vic squeezed his eyes shut again as the person—the woman—continued to stroke his hair. 

“Kellin?” He managed to choke out. 

The woman shushed him and continued to stroke his hair until he finally opened his eyes again and turned his head to look at her. It was hard to get his eyes to focus on the woman’s features. Everything seemed just so bright and he couldn’t recognize the woman—or the man behind her.

They just stared at him and Vic looked at them, trying to make sense of what was happening. He looked from the woman down at his body—still sluggish and mostly numb. He was covered in a blue sheet and there was a metal frame encasing one side of his bed with wires running along it—wires which led to him. 

He was in a hospital. He was _out._

He looked back at the man and woman beside his bed and stared at them. They watched him with nervous smiles until, finally, something in his foggy mind clicked together.

“Mom?”

She nodded and Vic turned away again, his heart starting to beat a little harder in his chest. He was with his parents again, in a _hospital._ They looked so much older—his mother’s hair had even gone white… His father’s face was much more weathered than before, and creased with worry. 

Both of his parents were with him, but when he scanned the room again, he felt anxious that his brother was nowhere to be seen. What if something happened to him? What if Eddie had taken Mike instead? It was a crazy idea, a nightmare more than a realistic terror, but that didn’t make it any easier to shake. 

“Where’s Mike?” Vic asked, his voice coming out raspy.

“He’s here. He’s just outside in the hallway. The nurses said we shouldn’t crowd you.”

“Where’s Kellin?” Vic asked, hardly holding onto the words his mother spoke him after being reassured that Mike was still alive.

“I…I think he’s in one of the rooms upstairs. I haven’t heard anything about him.”

Kellin was in the hospital too? 

“Eddie?” Vic dared to whisper. 

“He’s _dead,_ Vic. Don’t you worry about him. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.”

His mother started rubbing his shoulder, then settled back down into squeezing his hand. No one said anything for a long time, giving Vic enough peace to gather his thoughts. Eddie was dead…or so his mother told him. His family was back, but Kellin was gone. 

He couldn’t feel his body except for pinprick of pain… Had he died? Was this all just a dream? It didn’t feel real. He’d imagined being reunited with his parents and it involved happiness and excitement, endless hugs and a warm homecoming. Like his body, his heart and mind were just…numb. 

“How are you feeling? Do you want any water?” His mother asked after a long silence. 

“Kellin…” Vic said, not sure if he was asking for the boy or trying to explain that Kellin was one who acted as his caregiver and his mother didn’t need to worry about getting anything for him—because Kellin would be there and Kellin would get it. 

“No… He can’t come visit right now. You’ll see him soon, I’m sure. Is there anything we can get you? More pillows?—A blanket?”

Vic shook his head and closed his eyes again. His mother kept squeezing his hand and rubbing his arm. The gentle touch helped keep him calm, even as he began to regain feeling in his limbs. The pain became more and more apparent until he felt his resolve chipping away. He could tell the pain showed on his face when his mother started cooing over him and moved from rubbing his arm to stroking his hair. 

“You should go get the nurse,” she whispered to Vic’s father. 

Moments later, Vic heard his father speaking to someone else outside the door. The voice he recognized right away as Mike’s. 

“Mike looks a little…different from how you might remember,” his mother said quietly. “He’s trying to look tough, I guess. Do you want to see him before the nurse comes?”

Vic forced his eyes back open and looked over his mother so he could nod and try to feign a smile. 

His mother turned to look over at the doorway and called for Mike who walked in with his hands deep in his pockets. He had on an over-sized hoodie with the hood up despite the fact his head was already covered with a wide-brimmed hat. 

Vic just stared at him, barely able to recognize him at all. His eyes were the only thing about him that hadn’t changed. Everything else was covered in ink—not at all how Vic had left him as a freshman in high school. 

“Hey.” Mike said it with a blank face, trying his best to look uninterested even though Vic could see a faint smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. 

“Your hair is gone,” Vic said. 

“Yeah. I sold it to a wig maker to pay for my tats.” Mike pulled his hands out of his pockets and rolled up his sleeves, showing off all the different patterns and designs he’d had etched into his skin.

It was a bad joke considering Mike’s hair hadn’t really been that long, but it still made Vic smile. Mike lowered the hood of his sweater and was practically beaming with pride as he showed off the art on both sides of his neck. He laughed when he caught sight of their mother rolling her eyes in obvious disapproval. 

“See? He thinks they’re cool,” Mike said, adjusting his hat as he came to sit down in one of the chairs by Vic’s bed. “I’m planning to get another one right here,” Mike added, gesturing to his throat. “Mom’s not too excited about it, but it’s going to be like a full portrait of her face—”

“No,” their mother interjected. 

“—and my Adam’s apple is going to be where her nose is so it’s like…three dimensional.”

“Sounds sick,” Vic said, grinning. 

“Oh it is. It’s really sick shit.” 

“No. Don’t even joke about it,” their mother repeated. 

Maybe it was a naïve thought, or a product of his woozy state, but when Vic and Mike looked at each other, Vic felt as though nothing had changed between them. Mike was the only one looking at him like he was normal, like no time had passed at all since they’d last seen each other. 

Vic felt for a moment as if he’d just woken up from a coma and all the bad things that had happened were just nightmares he’d suffered through in his imagination. 

Then the doctors came in and shattered his daydream. Mike excused himself from the room when the doctor started talking about Vic’s injuries and the surgeries he’d had in the past three days. With Mike gone, Vic felt isolated again. His parents were there for him, but he didn’t have the same connection with them that he’d had with his brother—even if they’d only been reunited for a few moments. 

Vic found himself staring at the door while the hospital staff tried talking to him, wishing Mike would come back but not blaming him for wanting to get away. Vic had been repulsive by all the things Eddie had done. He didn’t blame Mike for getting out while he still could…

( ) ( ) ( )

Mike had been warned about Vic so much that’d been reluctant to go in the room, even when Vic asked about him. They said Vic wouldn’t recognize him and would probably be intimidated by all of his new tattoos. They said Vic might not want him in the room or care to talk to him.

They had him so worked up that by the time he actually did get to see his older brother for the first time in nearly six years, he couldn’t even let himself feel happy at first. What good was it to have his brother back if it wasn’t really his _brother_ anymore? He and Vic had always been so close, even when they were just tormenting each other… 

As he’d stood in the hallway waiting to see if he’d even be allowed to come into Vic’s hospital room, he imagined what it would be like if all of his parents’ worries were true. What _if_ Vic was too intimidated by him to feel safe with Mike around? Mike was going to have to move out… He was going to have to leave home and though that wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing to do at his age, it still hurt to go from being the prized “only son left” to being the one in the way. 

But then he’d come in the room and, despite Vic looking a little shocked at first, his brother seemed excited to see him. He looked closer to death than life, but Vic’s humor was still intact and he was able to laugh. When he smiled at Mike’s shitty jokes, it gave Mike the sense that things just might be okay between them. Maybe he wouldn’t have to move out or hide himself away for Vic’s protection. 

Then the doctors came in and the good moment ended just as abruptly as it had begun. They were telling Vic what led to him being in the hospital and Mike couldn’t bear to hear it all again. 

When his brother went missing, Mike had thought Vic had just run away or got shot down in a gang war or something. He’d never looked at his brother as someone anybody would want to kidnap let alone hold hostage. Maybe he wasn’t the best judge of what made men attractive, but he’d never seen his brother as anything more than average—not someone who would attract the attention of a kidnapper, a rapist. That was a hell reserved for women or the children of rich families—not his brother, not a painter’s son. Or so he’d thought…

Before the doctor could start listing off Vic’s injuries, Mike fled the room and began pacing the halls of the hospital. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to imagine it or have the violent images flash through his brain. Vic’s kidnapper had been killed by another boy he’d taken prisoner, some kid called Kellin. One of the officers had even let it slip that the seventeen-year-old had castrated the man after the fact. Mike knew before that moment what satisfaction the sick man had gotten out of having Vic and Kellin in his home, but hearing that the kid had _castrated_ him emphasized just how hellish that reality had been. 

It made Mike sick to his stomach. It made him _angry._ He was, in a way, mad the man had died because it kept Mike from getting a chance at revenge. What he wouldn’t give for just five minutes with the sick son of a bitch… What he wouldn’t give just to have landed one blow on the motherfucker before he died. 

As he prowled the hospital, looking for a distraction, Mike put his hood back up and pulled down his sleeves. He didn’t want to stand out or cause a scene. He didn’t want kicked out or mistaken for a gunman or a gang member by the patients and workers who passed him wary glances wherever he went. 

He went to the vending machine and bought a bottle of Powerade, drank the whole thing and then went back for another before returning to Vic’s room. He could hear his mother crying though she was trying to stifle the noise and heard Vic mumbling quietly. When Mike peeked into the room, he spotted two police officers standing next to the hospital bed taking notes on the things his brother said while a nurse moderated. 

“—he had his friends over… I remember Kellin was really scared. It’s…It’s really hard to… I mean, I know what happened, I just… Not—Not good to remember. Not good.” Vic was becoming more and more distressed, repeating the words ‘not good’ over and over as he shook his head. 

“Alright—It’s alright. Let’s talk about something else. Can you remember the next morning? Do you remember anything that happened before you woke up in the hospital?”

It took a long time for Vic to calm to himself down enough to be able to answer. Mike watched him from the doorway silently shaking his head. His brother had just woken up. Was all this stress really necessary? He was so frail… What if they stressed him and his heart stopped again? Mike didn’t want to get his brother back and then lose him just minutes later to stress. 

“Kellin… Kellin put me in bed and…I remember he told me—he told me he got out and help was coming. I remember that part.” Vic nodded to himself as he paused, his eyes scanning the blankets. “He told me help would come, but then Eddie came home and…” 

“What happened when Eddie came in the house?” The police officer pressed. 

Vic whimpered out his story. The psycho came in and tried to grab Vic, and that was when Kellin started stabbing him. Vic remembered watching Kellin attack Eddie, but that was all he could bring to mind. Kellin and Eddie were both of the floor struggling and that was where everything cut out. 

When he finished his story, he asked the nurse if Kellin was okay and, upon hearing he was, smiled to himself in relief even though they’d told him so before.

“Do you think he’ll come visit me?” Vic asked.

“Maybe someday soon,” the officer answered, as if it were his place. The words caused Vic’s faint smile to fall away and he lowered his head. They weren’t going to let him see Kellin until they agreed the two weren’t making up a story together, though Mike though it was plain to see that anything which transpired had been anyone’s doing except Vic’s. 

Vic had been brutalized and left for dead. There was no way he was guilty of anything. Not anything…


	13. Chapter 13

Kellin felt so much heartache—so much rage and betrayal mixed in all at once—when he finally got to go home from the hospital only to discover that Brad was there. He’d run away from home in the first place because of this man, because of how much he hated this man and how much this man _loathed_ him. His mother reassured him in the hospital that he had _no reason_ to worry about going home. His anxiety had come from being faced with Brad again and he’d let himself be fooled into thinking the man wasn’t there. 

But as soon as he got out of his mother’s car, the front door opened and there was Brad—standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked so intimidating, so smug even though he had to have known the hell Kellin had been but through. 

He knew, he just didn’t _care._ Kellin’s mother didn’t dare to say “I told you so,” but Brad would. He would be glad to rub Kellin’s face in how stupid he’d been to run away. He’d take great _pride_ in telling Kellin that he’d gotten exactly what he deserved for being an arrogant, spoiled brat. 

Kellin kept his head ducked as he shouldered past Brad and went into the house. His mother followed after him, trying to rub his shoulder and coo at him about how he didn’t need to worry—about how they were going to be a happy family. 

His house no longer felt like a safe haven or a place to recover. Not with Brad here. No matter what his mother said, Kellin knew the man was just going to harass him the moment her back was turned. The anxiety set in as soon as they laid eyes on each other and it would stay there—permanently—until Kellin either got up the courage to run again or do what he’d been daydreaming about since he’d heard Vic had died: Join him in the afterlife. 

It would be easy, Kellin thought as he shut his bedroom door. He had tons of options. Kellin ran through the possibilities as his mother talked at him through the door. 

“He’s a good man, Kellin! Please, just give him a chance…”

He could hang himself… He could run away and jump off the overpass into traffic… Or he could cut himself and bleed out like Vic.

“Alright, Kellin… You just…rest up and I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” His mother stepped away from his bedroom door, leaving Kellin in what she envisioned to be peace.

His bedding had been changed, things had been moved, his laptop was gone. Some of his dresser drawers were empty as though his clothing had been simply…thrown away. Kellin went over to his closet and found a great deal of his shirts and sweaters gone as well. CDs were gone; movies too. It had been a year since he’d been in his own home but he still remembered how he’d left it—and the things he’d owned. Every item he realized was gone sent a spike of pain through his chest. His mother hadn’t expected him to come back…

She didn’t _want_ him to come back. 

All those tears in the hospital, all the screaming and terror she’d shown—it was all a ruse. It was all a lie. She didn’t care about him… She had been slowly pushing his things out of his bedroom, probably to make room for Brad’s things, or worse. 

In the back of his closet he noticed a large roll of what looked, at first, like wrapping paper. Only once he took it in hand and looked it over he realized it was wallpaper—cartoon jungle-themed wallpaper. The kind of wallpaper you hung in a baby’s room, he noted as his breaths came sharper and sharper.

He had no reason to feel hurt or sad, but he did. He looked at that paper and he saw the truth his mother didn’t want him to know just yet. His room looked as if it had been packed away and then unpacked again upon his return. 

His mother had been working on erasing him from existence—throwing out his things to make room for a nursery. A baby… A baby that was half her and half Brad.

Kellin let the roll of paper fall from his hand and backed away. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go back to Eddie’s dingy house and hide in the filthy bed sheets. He wanted Vic to shake him and wake him up from this nightmare. 

He’d rather wake up being tortured by Eddie than be here. 

At least with Eddie he felt wanted. At least with Vic he had love…

But Vic was dead. Vic was dead because Kellin was a failure—because Kellin was a coward. There was no reason he couldn’t have poisoned the dog sooner, or stabbed Eddie sooner. He could’ve saved Vic if he weren’t so damned pathetic. He’d let Vic lay there and bleed to death… He’d let those men rape him and torture him for hours upon hours. 

He was the reason it had happened. Vic trusted him, Vic _believed_ in him, and Kellin had let him down. 

No one was ever going to love him again—especially not in the way Vic had. His own mother, the only relative he really had left, didn’t even want him. She took him back in because she had to, because it would look bad to the authorities if she turned him out in favor of the new baby she clearly had coming. 

The pain in his chest got to be too much and Kellin sank down onto the floor, clutching at his hair. He and Vic talked so much about escape—about going home. They’d talked about many, many scenarios but none of them ended like this. He was supposed to be with Vic. He was supposed to go home with Vic and meet his family, stay with _his_ family where he’d be welcomed—not a burden, not in the way. 

He should’ve been the one to die, not Vic. 

Vic had a family who would want him back. Vic could’ve gone home where he was wanted and loved. Vic should’ve lived… 

Kellin wished more than anything else that they could trade places. Everyone would be happy if Kellin were dead instead of Vic. Everyone…

Sure, Vic would be sad but he’d move on. He liked girls anyway, before Kellin became the only option he had for affection. He’d move on and have a family—have kids and grandkids. 

Kellin tortured himself with the images of what Vic’s life could’ve been until he could barely breathe he was crying so hard. He wanted Vic. He wanted Vic back so badly. He didn’t know how to cope without him. Anytime things got hard with Eddie, Vic was there. Vic would hold him, Vic would let Kellin sleep on his chest. But he was alone now with nothing, not any single thing to soften the blows. 

He’d been in the house less than forty minutes and he was already looking for an escape. Death, he felt, was probably going to be the only answer. It wasn’t a matter of “if,” but rather “when.” When would he work up the courage to do it? And how?

Soon, he thought as he stared at that roll of wallpaper. Before the baby came—or maybe on the same day. He would bide his time until the fact that he was in the way became unavoidable. His mother and Brad would have to put the baby’s crib in his room—there wasn’t any other space in the house. With the crib would come all the restrictions of having an infant child: No loud music, no violent video games, lights out when the baby was napping, no making noise or talking on the phone while the baby was asleep. 

Kellin wasn’t going to stick around for that. He wasn’t going to be the babysitter for the rest of his life because he was too afraid to go out and face the world he’d gone so long without seeing.

He was going to die. He was going to be with Vic before he’d let that happen. 

( ) ( ) ( )

He’d been in the hospital for three weeks. Three long weeks. Every day his parents visited (not always both of them, but at least one), and Mike stopped by any chance he could if he didn’t have work. If he wasn’t being visited, he had nurses popping in every few minutes to check on him and doctors coming to examine him. He had to undergo physical therapy to get used to walking again after spending so long in the bed and help rebuild the strength in his arm. 

The pain had mostly dissipated by the second week, so when he was finally released he was able to walk into his childhood home without anyone helping to keep him on his feet. 

“We did a little remodeling, but not too much,” his father said, stepping into the house behind him. The living room had been rearranged and repainted and the furniture was new—or at least new to Vic. There was a dark stain in the light fabric on one side of the couch, but it was far cleaner than anything in Eddie’s home. Even the overhead light fixture had been changed to make the room brighter. 

“It—It looks really good. Really nice,” Vic said, making his way into the kitchen. That room remained unchanged. Even the refrigerator was the same. 

“If you’re hungry, I can make you and snack before dinner. What would you like?”

“I’m—I’m fine, Mom,” Vic said, looking around the room. There were pictures of him and Mike taped on the doors of the fridge, a family portrait hanging on the wall beside the table—an old one from the last time they’d all been together. The whole place was warm and smelled of food and spices, no linger odor of blood and booze. 

He kept looking around, feeling like a man in a dream. From the living room to the kitchen, the kitchen to the laundry room, the laundry room into the bathroom, the bathroom into Mike’s room. 

“What? Did you get lost?” Mike asked, laughing a little as he looked at Vic from his seat on his bed. He looked so at home in the room cluttered with posters and discarded clothing. It looked like a bomb had gone off, sending CDs and DVDs everywhere. 

“Just…looking around,” Vic said. 

“Your room’s over there you know,” Mike said, gesturing toward the far wall. 

“I know. I…” He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t exactly afraid to go in his room, but he felt reluctant. “I just wanted to see where you went.”

“Well, you found me,” Mike said, smiling and shrugging. He was the only one who didn’t get worked up whenever Vic said something or did something strange. Mike just took it at face value and shrugged it off, not bothering to make a big deal out of Vic’s nervousness. 

“Right,” Vic said, lingering in the doorway a moment longer before being forced by Mike’s silence to face his anxiety and go to his own bedroom.

Not a single thing had changed. His bed was still messy, a textbook was sitting open on his desk where he’d left off studying the night before his life had been ruined. There was still a basket of worn clothing sitting at the foot of his bed, his guitar was on its stand beside the door. His laptop sat on the foot of his bed, but that was only thing out of place. 

“The police…they came and looked at some things,” his mother said, suddenly behind him. Her voice caused him to jump, and she sighed softly and started rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him. “I got your computer back after a couple weeks, but that was really the only thing they took.”

“My laptop?” Vic mumbled.

“Yeah. They wanted to see if you’d been talking to anyone or planning to meet anybody. They didn’t find anything… Obviously, they didn’t find anything,” she added before leaning her head down onto his shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Your dad’s watching TV if you get bored in here.”

Vic didn’t know what to say so he just nodded and watched as his mother stepped away down the hall, leaving him on his own again. He scanned his room a second time, his eyes landing upon a frame photo on his dresser. A photo of him and his girlfriend—his _ex_ girlfriend. The one who had been cheating on him and broke his heart. The one who drove him to go to the bar that night where he’d ended up getting grabbed by Eddie on his way out… 

Vic went over to the photo and slammed it down, not wanting that girl’s eyes prying into him. He didn’t know what to do with himself now, but he didn’t really feel up to sitting in the living room with his father or bothering Mike by invading his room. He had to get used to being on his own. It wasn’t like at Eddie’s house where it was acceptable to follow Kellin from room to room. 

Slowly, Vic made his way over to his bed and sat down. He tried to turn on his laptop, but the battery was dead and he didn’t feel up to looking for the charger. He sat in bed and stared at the blankets. He could hear Mike talking to someone on the phone in the next room, a soft mumbling that helped to keep him calm. 

He felt safer here than he did at the hospital. Even though the police who constantly bombarded him reassured him each and every day that Eddie was gone—mutilated beyond repair—he didn’t _feel_ dead to Vic. Even with police officers and nurses and doctors all providing him with security in the hospital, he’d just felt like a sitting target for Eddie if he came. Here, in his own home, he felt untouchable. How could Eddie find him here? His wallet had been uncovered from Eddie’s home and returned to him so there was no way Eddie would have his address if he somehow survived. No one could find him here… Not even Kellin.

Vic had spent so many days just watching the door to his hospital room hoping to see Kellin appear, but the boy never did. No one would tell him why Kellin didn’t come, or if he’d been discharged from the hospital or anything about what had become of him. It was starting to feel as if Kellin were a figment of his imagination—something he’d made up to help cope with life in Eddie’s house. 

He was still staring at the bedding when he heard a soft knocking on his open door. When he looked up, Mike was there with his cell phone still held to his ear.

“Hey—Jaime’s on the phone. You want to talk to him?” He kept his voice low, almost a whisper, giving Vic the sense that their parents had warned Mike against pressuring Vic to be sociable so soon. 

“Um… Sure. Yeah.” Vic felt his heart rate pick up a bit as Mike came over to him with the phone. He’d missed his friends and hadn’t seen anyone while in the hospital since his parents were fearful it would ‘stress’ him. But what could he possibly have to say to them? He didn’t want to answer all the questions again, and phones were just so impersonal. Vic regretted saying yes, but it was too late. The phone was already in his hand and Mike was leaving the room.

He stammered out a nervous greeting and swallowed hard, not sure how to act or what Jaime would say.

“Hey, man! It’s been forever.” Jaime’s voice sounded so unfamiliar. Vic tried hard to recall a memory of them together, but anything that came to mind was fractured and it was hard to even picture his friend’s face. 

“It… Yeah, it…has.”

“You’re probably really busy… I just wanted to say hi. Mike kept telling me you were getting better but hearing your voice makes it feel…real, I guess.” Jaime paused, but all Vic could manage was a soft hum. He didn’t know what to say to him apart from asking how he was, but wouldn’t that just encourage Jaime to ask him the same question? He didn’t want asked how he was doing anymore. He just wanted to…forget. If Kellin wasn’t coming back, there was no reason to remember anything that had happened in that house. “So… Mike said the hospital was trying to poison you with protein shakes.”

“Yeah… They had me on, like, a liquid diet for a while. It was…yeah, it was gross.” He had a fear Jaime would ask the reason for the diet, but he didn’t. He probably already knew and understood why. Everybody probably knew what he’d been put through in gross detail. 

The realization made Vic not want to talk to anybody. He lowered the phone from his ear while Jaime was still talking—telling him about some gross smoothie he’d tried at his girlfriend’s urging. Why was he still talking? What did he even want?—To know Vic was okay? He could get that information from Mike. 

Vic hung up the call and set the phone aside on his bed before crawling back against the headboard. The screen lit up moments later, showing an incoming call from Jaime. Vic felt guilty as he watched it ring and hurried to grab it, picking up just before the screen went dim. 

“Sorry. I think the…call got dropped,” Vic mumbled, knowing he didn’t sound convincing. Eddie could always tell when Vic was lying. 

“Oh. I… For a minute there I thought I said something you didn’t like…” He didn’t sound convinced at all, and the fact that Vic didn’t say anything else wasn’t helping. “So…is Mike still there?”

“He went to his room, I think,” Vic mumbled, getting up from his bed. Jaime didn’t have to ask; Vic could tell his former friend would rather talk to Mike than him. As soon as he found Mike, he handed off the phone and retreated to his bedroom—making the resolve never to leave it again unless he had to. 

Why did Mike think he could hold his own in a conversation? He didn’t _know_ anyone anymore. How was he supposed to talk to them? He didn’t want to talk to anyone… He had nothing worth saying, no thoughts to contribute. The only things in his head were bad memories and Kellin—things nobody wanted to hear about. 

Vic got back in bed and pulled his blankets up to his chest, mindful not to yank too hard and knock his laptop over the edge of the bed. He felt sick to his stomach, nervous that Jaime would tell Mike about how Vic had hung up on him—worried his brother would come in and tell him that he was rude and needed to grow up. 

Maybe coming home wasn’t that effortless. Maybe it wasn’t as easy as he and Kellin had daydreamed it would be. 

( ) ( ) ( ) 

Kellin managed to last a month before the inevitable breakdown happened. He’d just finished giving his testimony to a judge in place of a trial, explaining why—with a registered psychologist’s help—he’d attacked Eddie with excessive force. There was an attorney present arguing the other side, but the judge dismissed the case almost as soon as it had begun. Clearly Kellin had acted in self-defense initially, and as for the excessive force—it was all the result of a mental disturbance caused by the conditions in which Kellin had been living. 

His mother looked so relieved and hugged him after the judge stated his verdict to the small audience of his rather spacious office. Then, as they were leaving, Brad looked to Kellin and said:

“Feels good, doesn’t it? To get away with murder?” He meant it as a joke, but the smug look on his face just set Kellin off. On the steps of the courthouse he just turned and snapped at the man. He screamed everything that came into his mind—about how much he _hated_ Brad, about the baby they were hiding from him, about the horrible things he’d rather be enduring in Eddie’s house than go home with his mother and Brad. 

His mother exclaimed his name in horror and Brad glared at him before stepping closer, looking dangerously close to slapping Kellin across the face. He’d done it before Kellin had gone missing, surely this time would be no different. 

“You need to watch your mouth,” was all he dared say, however, outside the court house with everyone watching. 

“Or what?” Kellin snapped. His chest was heaving with labored breaths, his face red from all the anger he’d been keeping pent up for weeks. He never got any rest, he never got any support or comfort or a moment of peace since he’d come “home.” All he got was stress and anxiety and bad dreams. 

“We’ll talk about this at home,” his mother said, grabbing his arm and squeezing it as she tried to pull him down the steps to the car. 

“Yes we will,” Brad said, keeping his eyes locked on Kellin’s. 

“No,” Kellin snapped, yanking his arm away from his mother. “We won’t.” He put his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hurried down the stairs and started off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace—not quite running but wanting to put as much space between him and his mother as possible. 

He had no intention to returning to the house. Why would he? So he could get in the way some more? So he could be yelled at by Brad day in and day out about how he needed to help out more? Get out more? Do more? He spent a year getting raped and beaten half to death, but that was no excuse to leave the dishes in the sink overnight. He watched the man he loved get gang raped and then bleed to death. He had nightmares about Vic’s lifeless eyes every time he tried to sleep. 

Between the awful images tormenting him in his sleep and the hell he woke up to with Brad during the day, Kellin had nothing left. He had absolutely nothing left. 

“Kellin!—Kellin, wait!” His mother was chasing after him, the heels of her boots clicking on the sidewalk behind him. _“Kellin!”_

When her voice turned to a high-pitched screech, he slowed down and allowed her to catch up before anyone else decided to get involved. He didn’t know what he’d do if some stranger tried to grab him and make him stop. 

“What’s gotten into you? You can’t run away from me like that!”

“Why not? What do you care?” Kellin answered, not looking at her as he continued to make his way down the street. 

“What do I care? Kellin, you’re my son! You—”

“Yeah, the one you wish you didn’t have.”

“How can you say that?—Come on. Stop. Just stop and _talk_ to me.” 

“Why? So you can have Brad give me another lecture? No thanks. I’d rather be back with Eddie.”

“Would you _stop_ saying that! You don’t mean it!”

“Yes I do! At least in that place I had _Vic!_ Someone who gave half a shit about me!”

“Kellin, I _love_ you—”

“No you don’t. All you care about is Brad and the baby.”

“The baby isn’t going to change anything between me and you—”

“Because there isn’t anything between me and you. It’s all about Brad. It’s always been all about Brad.” Kellin sighed as he was forced to stop at a crosswalk. Once he stopped moving, his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him back from the street corner. 

“Kellin… Please. Don’t do this. I know things are hard right now, but I _do_ love you.”

“You threw away all my stuff! You gave Brad my laptop—”

“I thought you ran away! How was I to know something awful had happened?”

Kellin looked past his mother and shook his head. He doubted she would’ve even filed a missing person’s report on him if his school didn’t raise concerns. He doubted she even gave him a passing thought once he was out their front door. He doubted she’d care about him now if he stepped out in front of the bus that was coming their way. 

“Please… Please, don’t do this. I know things have been stressful, but it’ll get better. I’ll talk to Brad. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Why not? Don’t want to pay for daycare and babysitting?” 

“Stop it! The baby isn’t changing anything!” She continued to yell at him, but Kellin didn’t listen. It was so naïve of her to say the baby wouldn’t change anything, and yet she honestly didn’t seem to think it would. 

It was always the same with her. Brad was a nice guy, she’d insist. Oh, he hit you? I’m sorry, but Brad is really a nice guy—stop setting him off. 

“I’ll tell Brad to go easy on you. He just doesn’t know what it’s like to have children—”

“I’m not a child! He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me around and I know you don’t either. So let me just do you a fucking favor and disappear. Maybe this time I’ll die—like I should’ve with Eddie.”

He started across the street once the light turned and his mother followed him, growling under her breath. 

“Just because you’re not the only person in my life anymore doesn’t mean I want you to _die._ Would you stop with this? It _killed_ me when you didn’t come home. I never meant to drive you away. I love you—you’re my son.”

“Well, you’ll have a new son now—or a daughter,” Kellin said, not looking at her as he made his way around the corner. His path was aimless and unfamiliar, the product of his desperation to escape. But there was nowhere for him to hide.

“I don’t want to replace you, Kellin! I told you, I’d buy you new clothes. We’re getting you a new laptop just as soon as I get paid—”

“I don’t want stuff, Mom! I want…” His words trailed off, knowing she wouldn’t understand.

“What? You want what? Tell me so I can get it for you.”

“I want what _Vic_ and I talked about. I didn’t want to come back to this. You didn’t care about me when I left and you don’t now—and I wish you’d quit trying. You don’t want me, you want Brad. And you should have him. Have your fuckin’ white picket fence family without me.”

His mother harped at him some more, then their car pulled up beside them on the street and Brad ordered them both to get in and stop making a scene. With no money and not a single friend to turn to, Kellin really had no choice but to get in the car and go with them—and listen to Brad lecture him for every single mile.

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic wrung his hands and scratched at his wrists—and paced back and forth. Jaime was coming over and even though Mike insisted they were just going to hang out together in his room, Vic knew it wouldn’t be acceptable if he hid in his bedroom and didn’t say hello at all. He hadn’t spoken to anyone outside the family and his therapist since the failed phone call weeks ago and he didn’t think he was ready for visitors.

But when his mother asked if he’d prefer Jaime didn’t come over, Vic couldn’t say anything. He didn’t want to be the reason Mike didn’t get to have friends over anymore. He told them it didn’t bother him, but now he just couldn’t stop fidgeting. He’d scratched his left wrist until the skin broke, but it did nothing for the crawling feeling running up and down his arms. 

What if Jaime wanted to talk to him?—What if Jaime _didn’t_ want to talk to him? It would be nice to make a friend and have someone to talk to besides Mike, but what if he ruined it? What if he just made himself look like a reclusive psychopath? He hadn’t talked to anyone—really talked to anyone—but Kellin and Mike. Two people who couldn’t really avoid him if he said something off-color.

Vic flinched when someone knocked on his bedroom door and quickly tried to roll his sleeves down his arms to hide how red his skin had become. 

“Vic? Are you… Yeah, you’re not alright.” Mike came in the room and shut the door behind him. “If you’re not ready to have people over, you could’ve told me. I can still call Jaime and tell him we can meet up somewhere else.”

“No. You don’t need to do that. I-I… I just need to get over it. I’ll be fine. I don’t even know what I’m so nervous about. Jaime’s my friend—was my friend… I’m fine.”

“You’re having a panic attack. I’ll call Jaime and tell him something came up—he won’t even have to know you had anything to do with it.”

“Mike, he’s going to know. I’m the reason everything’s so messed up around here.”

“Vic—I’ve told you a hundred thousand fucking times, nothing’s messed up. Things have been _better_ since you got home. I don’t care if Jaime can visit today or not. I’ve seen him enough in the past six years—the person I haven’t seen is you. I know you don’t want special treatment, but the thing _I_ don’t want is to do something that hurts you because you’re afraid to tell us when we take things too far. You scratched your arms open again, didn’t you?”

“No,” Vic said, pulling on his sleeves again—unwittingly giving himself away.

“I’ll call Jaime—”

“Don’t. I-I want to see him, I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Vic, we’re talking about _Jaime._ You could be in here sacrificing cats and dogs to Satan and he’d shrug it off. You’re not going to make him uncomfortable.”

“Fine, but I still don’t want him to tiptoe around me.”

“Then he won’t.”

“Mike…”

“It’s Jaime. You’ll see him and remember. He’s a screwball.”

“I don’t know… I’m probably just going to stay in here. I don’t want to get in the way—”

“You’re his _friend._ You’re not going to get in the way!”

“But what if he starts asking questions?” Vic asked, his real fears spilling out. He was already on medications to sleep through his nightmares and make it through his days without having debilitating anxiety attacks every ten minutes—he didn’t put on mood stabilizers too, and his mood swings when he was questioned about Kellin and Eddie would lead to that. 

“I’ve told him before not to ask.”

Vic sighed and sank down into his desk chair. This was what he’d been reduced to—a pathetic excuse for a human people had to walk on eggshells around. He was something so gross, so repulsive, even the person who had saved his life didn’t want to see him. Why would Jaime want to sit and talk to him?—He’d just look at Vic and imagine all the sick things Eddie had done with him. 

Vic didn’t want seen that way. He didn’t want seen at all. If he had his way, he’d never even leave his bedroom. If he could, he’d have his mother pass him food through a slot in his door like an inmate and never face anyone again. 

Mike kept him company while they waited for Jaime to arrive. Once he did, Mike left and promised that no one would bother him unless he decided to come out of his room to join them. It was meant to be a comfort, but it just left Vic feeling guilty. 

He and Jaime used to be such good friends and now he couldn’t even work up the courage to go into the next room and say hello to him. 

Vic sat with his desk chair closer to the wall and listened as Jaime and Mike talked, trying to get himself accustomed to Jaime’s voice. It was soft except for whenever Mike said something to get him laughing. Vic listened to their conversation, trying to think of ways he could chip in if he were on the other side of the wall. Maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to join in…to just go in there and say hi for a minute…

But then Jaime would ask questions Vic couldn’t bear to answer. It was better if he just stayed in his room… 

The longer he sat there, however, the lonelier he felt. Why not just go in there? He could get over the awkward questions and stop avoiding them—like tearing off a bandage. Jaime would ask how he was, Vic would lie and say he was feeling better, they would go on to better things. 

After about twenty minutes, Vic got up from his desk chair and slowly crept out of his room and came to stand by Mike’s half-open door. He peered through the crack, managing to catch a glimpse of Jaime before Mike caught him standing there.

“Oh, hey! You need something?” Mike asked, coming to the doorway and blocking Jaime from view. 

“I… I thought I’d come say hi,” Vic mumbled. He hated how badly his hands were shaking, knowing how pathetic he had to look. 

“Oh—come on in then,” Mike said, opening the door all the way and stepping back so Vic could enter. 

Jaime was sitting backwards in Mike’s desk chair and waved his hand casually at Vic as he entered.

“Hey,” he said, smiling—his eyes practically glittering he looked so happy. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” Vic answered, not sure what else he could say. 

“Tony says hi by the way. He’s working two jobs now so I hardly ever see him, but he was excited you came back.”

“Oh,” Vic said, nodding. The way he’d worded it made it sound like Vic had chosen to disappear—like he’d decided to leave and decided to just ‘come back’ when he was done hiding out. 

“Did Mike give you that demo we recorded?”

“Demo?—Oh. Yeah. It…It sounded pretty good.” Jaime, Mike, and Tony still played their music together, even without Vic’s vocals or guitar work. They had someone else now, someone whose voice was a lot deeper and more masculine than Vic’s. He sounded a lot better, too—in both his singing and his speed on guitar. 

Vic listened to the CD for Mike’s sake and pretended it didn’t break his heart. He didn’t particularly feel up to singing or playing anymore, but it hurt to be replaced. He had no _right_ to get upset over it and he knew he should be happy his brother still had friends with which he could make music. 

“Vocalist’s a dumbshit though,” Jaime said, rolling his eyes.

“No kidding,” Mike said, shaking his head. He sat down on his bed and motioned for Vic to come sit with him, but Vic stood his ground by the door. He wanted it to be easier to leave if things became uncomfortable. 

“He sounds good,” Vic said, not sure how to weigh in about a man he didn’t know. 

“Yeah, but he tried to sleep with my girlfriend,” Jaime muttered. 

Not knowing what to say, Vic just nodded. He could mention that he knew how much it sucked to date a cheater, but that didn’t really apply—and just opened the door for more conversation about how he’d gotten snatched by Eddie. No one would’ve known he’d found out his girlfriend was cheating. He hadn’t gotten around to telling anyone before Eddie took him.

“She turned him down—she’s a good girl,” Jaime added, smiling as if he were proud of himself for choosing so well. It made Vic miss Kellin even more, seeing someone so happy to be in a relationship…

Though he guessed he and Kellin never really had a relationship. They were just held hostage together…did _things_ together to pass the time. Kellin didn’t even come to see Vic in the hospital. Obviously the “love” they shared was just…boredom. Just a game they played to keep themselves occupied. Once they got out, Kellin no longer had a need for his fake boyfriend. He didn’t need anyone to “play house” with anymore. 

But, goddamn, Vic wished Kellin would’ve at least stopped by to check on him. He didn’t even have to say _goodbye._ He could’ve just stopped in for a minute or two… He could’ve acted like he cared if Vic lived or died. 

“I… I just wanted to say hi,” Vic stammered, looking away from Jaime and backing out of the room. When he got back into his own bedroom he heard Mike and Jaime go back to talking.

“Did I say something?” Jaime asked. 

“I don’t know—I don’t think so,” Mike answered. 

“He got really pale… Ah, shit. I think I know what it is.”

“What?”

“He had that friend, right? The… The guy who was with him?” He tried to lower his voice, but Vic could still hear him. Mike, however, was almost impossible to understand when he started speaking softer. 

“Yeah. Kellin.”

“Maybe I’m imagining things or…being paranoid, but I told you before about when we talked on the phone, right? I was telling him about my girlfriend when she was on this health kick and he hung up on me. Then I mentioned her this time and he just…”

“Could be it,” Mike said. “I know he’s been upset the guy never even visited him in the hospital. Doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense to me. Kellin’s the reason they got out, and then he doesn’t even check to see if Vic’s still alive… Who does that?”

“I need to stop fucking it up every time I talk to him. He’s going to hate me.”

“No he’s not. He just gets nervous.”

Vic sighed and moved away from the wall, going over to his bed and grabbing his bottle of sleeping pills. It was too early to sleep, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want dinner. He didn’t want to wait around waiting to go to sleep when it was acceptable. He wanted to go to bed and forget today ever happened—forget everything that _ever_ happened.

He swallowed one of the pills with a mouthful of water and shuffled under the blankets. It took an hour, but when sleep finally came it was deep—and quiet.


	14. Chapter 14

Kellin sat on the floor next to his bed, hidden from view if his mother or Brad decided to come in him room. He was on his laptop, checking his social media even though he hardly talked to any of his old friends since he’d returned home. He chatted with Justin and Gabe, but never arranged to meet up and couldn’t talk with them on the phone considering he’d yet to get a new one. 

Hell, he hadn’t even gotten a new laptop yet. He was borrowing his old one from Brad—which meant that the man would demand it back after thirty minutes. It was like they wanted Kellin to stay isolated… Maybe they’d started to realize that his goal was to commit suicide and wanted to help him get to his breaking point. He had nothing left to extract happiness from and the longer he was by himself, the more tempting his thoughts became. 

Nights were so miserable, even when he’d sneak out and walk around the deserted streets. He was terrified the entire time that someone would snatch him the way Eddie had, but fear was better than pain. If he stayed home and tried to sleep, he’d just think about Vic and have nightmares. There was no escaping his misery and Kellin couldn’t find a reason to endure another minute of it.

Soon, he thought. Soon he’d end it.

Kellin was about to close his Facebook window when a notification lit up and caught his attention. It was a friend request he was tempted to ignore. He hadn’t met anyone new—why would anyone want to add him? But curiosity was a great way to distract from his emptiness so he clicked the icon and furrowed his brow. He didn’t recognize the name or the face, but when he tried to access this _Jaime Preciado_ ’s profile it was restricted for friends only, giving Kellin no choice but to add him. No sooner did he click “Add Friend” did a message pop up on his screen.

First it was just “Hey,” then the ellipses icon at the bottom of the window showed the guy was typing more. Kellin stared at the icon, waiting to see what this stranger would have to say to him, but felt sick as soon as the text popped up. 

“I’m friends with Vic.”

Kellin didn’t know what to say to that. He felt tears in his eyes and looked away from the screen, not sure why the emotions hit him with so much force. Perhaps it was the realization that in waiting so long to get help, he hadn’t just hurt Vic—he hurt his friends and his family too. He’d let everybody down. He was such a coward and he’d failed _everyone._

“I’m sorry to bombard you out of nowhere. I know you have your own things going on but I need to ask you something.”

Kellin stared at the screen a long time before finally clicking into the window to write a reply. What could this man possibly want from him? An explanation for why he’d been such a fucking coward? An answer for how he could’ve given up so easily on finding help while he was outside the fence? 

“What is it?” Kellin asked, blinking back tears as he watched the ellipses appear at the bottom of the chat window again.

“I know you’re probably really busy. I don’t mean to bother you or make you feel attacked in ANY way.” Each sentence was its own paragraph, as if the man were really struggling to get to the point as opposed to dragging it out. 

“What is it?” Kellin asked again.

“I just want to know if you ever intend to come see Vic at all.” Seconds later he added: “Or if you can’t.”

Kellin’s chest tightened and he stared at the words in shock—not understanding at all. Was this guy pissed off at him for not coming to the funeral? Kellin had never even been told about it…and how would this stranger know if Kellin had visited his grave or not? It wasn’t like he could keep tabs on a cemetery… 

“What do you mean?” Kellin asked, feeling sick to his stomach. 

“Look I know you’ve got your own things going on but Vic really misses you. He doesn’t understand why you won’t come see him or try to contact him at all. His parents said they left their contact info at the hospital for you before you checked out, so if you still have it can you at least call him? He said you guys were really close and I know it would mean a lot to him. He hasn’t been doing that good since he got back. Hearing from you might cheer him up a little.”

Kellin covered his mouth with his hands, suddenly unable to breathe. He tried to get a breath, but no air would come. His chest was so tight that it was burning and he could feel his pulse all through his body. 

He spoke as if Vic were still alive… But if that was true, it meant his mother had lied to him. She’d put him through hell—and for what reason? Why would she do that? She _wouldn’t._ She’d seen how badly it hurt him to hear Vic had died. How could she watch that and know Vic _wasn’t_ dead? It was _cruel._ This guy had to be lying. His mother was insensitive, but she’d never lie to him like that…

Even the police officers didn’t correct him when he spoke of Vic dying… 

No. This wasn’t possible. It was a trick. 

“Vic died. My mom told me he didn’t make it through surgery,” Kellin said, his hands shaking as he typed. He wiped the tears off his cheeks as he waited to see what the man would say next. 

It couldn’t be true. His mother wouldn’t do this to him… She wouldn’t watch him fall apart like this. There was no _reason_ to tell him Vic had died. His mother _wouldn’t_ lie to him like that…

Except she did.

The next message was a photo of Vic—a blurry photo that appeared to have been taken in secret. Vic was talking to someone who had their back to the camera. Even with Vic’s figured slightly distorted, Kellin could easily recognize him. He’d know Vic’s body anywhere. 

Kellin stared at the picture and sobbed, his hands clamped over his mouth. It was the only picture he had of Vic that wasn’t stored in his bad memories. Even blurry, it was beautiful. He had on jeans and a baggy sweater—and had a grey beanie on his head, just like he used to wear in Eddie’s house. 

When Kellin finally closed the image, he saw the next message sent him by the stranger—by this friend of Vic. 

“He’s a little messed up but he’s not DEAD. Who told you he was dead???”

“My mom,” Kellin said, feeling so betrayed and heartbroken. Learning he’d been lied to—made to suffer nightmares about holding Vic until he bled out and stared at him with vacant eyes—hurt almost as much as it had when he’d been told Vic was gone. He felt like he couldn’t trust anyone, like _everybody_ wanted him to suffer. 

Vic had to hate him by this point. They’d been so…so _in love_ at Eddie’s house. It had to kill Vic to believe that Kellin had abandoned him as soon as they got free. He probably felt used…like Kellin had been faking his affections the entire time they’d been together. 

“He’s not dead. If you want to see him I’m willing to drive you or anything. I can give you his brother’s phone number if you want to talk just to him and not his parents. He misses you so much.”

“Where does he live?” Kellin asked, searching address as soon as the man sent it to him. It made his chest hurt even more when he noticed how far away Vic was from him. “It’s over two hours from me,” Kellin said, adding a frowning emoji. He doubted this stranger would be willing to drive him _that far_ just to reunite him and Vic for a few hours…

Though Kellin doubted he would be leaving anytime soon after seeing Vic. If he got his hands on him again, he’d never let go. 

“That’s fine. Vic’s my friend. I think seeing you would make him feel better. I’d drive out of state if that’s what it takes.”

“When can I see him?” Kellin asked, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He wanted to see Vic so badly. He would do anything—even risk getting in the car with a stranger again—to have Vic in his arms again.

“Is tonight too soon? I could be at your place around three if you’re up for it.”

“Ok,” Kellin said before quickly adding, “Can you send me another picture before you come? I need to know it’s him. I just want to make sure.”

“Yeah. Hang on.” 

Kellin stared at the messaging window and waited…and waited. After about three minutes he got a message, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

“Sorry. He’s hard to catch off guard and he doesn’t like cameras. Hang on.” 

It took almost ten minutes before an image came through. It was much clearer than the first image and just the sight of it was enough to make Kellin’s heart flutter. Vic was standing in a doorway, talking to someone Kellin couldn’t see. There was no mistaking those beautiful eyes… He looked so sad in the photo, but not in the way that Eddie always made him sad. 

“Does he know you’re talking to me?” Kellin asked after saving the photo and hiding it in a folder Brad wouldn’t bother to look in. 

“I didn’t want to tell him in case you didn’t want to see him. I thought it could be a surprise. Otherwise I think he’d get anxious.”

“I don’t want him to get upset,” Kellin said, nervousness taking place of his excitement. There were just so many emotions to work through—the fear, the betrayal, and the dangerous hope. 

“I don’t think he can get any worse.”

It made Kellin’s heart break even more for his lost friend. He didn’t like imagining Vic so unhappy. More than anything, he was afraid he wouldn’t be enough to fix anything. Vic spent all these months thinking Kellin didn’t want to see him. That had to hurt him so badly… 

Kellin _hated_ his mother for doing this to them. He’d almost killed himself so many times because of the guilt of losing Vic… Didn’t she understand at all how much she was hurting them both?

Kellin gave Jaime his address and told him he’d meet him up the street from his house to keep his mother and Brad from getting involved—though he spared the details of his family life. 

When Jaime signed off, Kellin went back to staring at the photos he’d gotten of Vic—trying to calm his nerves and stop his shaking. He needed to come up with a plan to leave and his mother wouldn’t believe a thing he said if he came to her crying. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic was helping his mother with dinner as he tried to do every night when he wasn’t having a panic attack and taking his sleeping pills early. She had him dicing vegetables for her homemade salsa while she busied herself with preparing the fish she wanted to serve for dinner. He didn’t particularly care for cod, but he wasn’t going to say anything to her about it. He was thankful to be eating. His therapist told him he’d get used to being at home and things would start feeling more natural for him, but he still felt his heart leap every time a meal was put before him. 

He got a meal three times a day and snacks whenever he wanted them, he got a warm bed at no charge, and no one at home ever attacked him. Even Mike didn’t play-punch him anymore like when they were younger. He didn’t tiptoe around him the way their parents did either. Mike was the only one who treated him like an adult. Their mother treated him like he was ten years old again, but Vic didn’t mind. It was frustrating sometimes, but he preferred it over getting belittled and beaten day in and day out.

His home life felt so idyllic when it had formerly appeared to him as so mundane. The only thing that could make it better was if Kellin decided to come back into his life…but Vic doubted that would ever happen. For whatever reason, Kellin had decided to be rid of him and it did no good to dwell on what used to be. 

“If you don’t like the fish, I can make yours with chicken, darling,” his mother said, calling him out of his thoughts. 

“Fish is fine,” Vic said, not looking up from the cutting board. 

“But if you don’t like it, I can make you something else.” She set aside the fish fillet and started gathering the ingredients for her rice dish. 

“I’m not picky. Fish is fine. Really,” Vic said, keeping his voice low. 

“Of course…Jaime said he’d be back for dinner so I should probably make extra. What do you think?”

“I… I really don’t know, Mom.”

“Jaime eats enough for three people. I should start charging him like it’s a restaurant… Or at least make him help with dishes.”

“If that’s what you want…” He wished he didn’t feel compelled to answer every time someone spoke around him, but ignoring Eddie was a surefire way to get beaten. Behaving how Eddie wanted him to wasn’t a choice anymore. No matter how many pills they fed him, Vic would always be Eddie’s bitch.

“You look tired—are you feeling okay? Jaime’s been over a lot lately. Is it stressing you out?”

“No. I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well. That’s all.”

“Do you have enough pills? You didn’t run out again, did you?” 

“No. I just…”

“Nightmares again?”

“I’m done with the vegetables,” Vic said, sliding the cutting board toward his mother and taking the knife to the sink where he promptly washed it. 

Nightmares again, she asked. He had nightmares every night. The pills were supposed to stop them, but nothing made them stop. He was tortured by his memories and sometimes the images his imagination could concoct were even worse than the horrors Eddie put him through.

“Vic?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve just been so tense lately… I’m worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Mom. I just need sleep.”

“Why don’t you go lay down for a bit then? I’ll finish up in here.”

Vic tried to resist, but his mother practically pushed him out of the kitchen. He tried to ignore the looks Mike and his father gave him as he retreated to his bedroom—the place he spent every spare moment he could.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Vic felt tears well in his eyes. He wanted more than anything to feel _normal_ again—to feel even a little bit stable. He wanted to be able to visit with his friends and have actual conversations with someone other than his therapist and Mike.

He was surrounded by people who loved him, but he just didn’t feel secure here. He was anxious all the time now and he didn’t _want_ put on drugs to combat it. He wished he could go through a day without feeling like he was about to have a break down at any given moment. He wished that all the therapy he’d gone through would make him feel at least _somewhat_ in control, but he still felt helpless. 

He wanted something to make him feel _normal_ again and no pill could do that. No pill was going to undo what Eddie had done to him. No pill was going to erase all of his scars. No pill was going to fill the hole in his chest where his heart had been.

Why did Kellin leave him like this? Why couldn’t he have left him to die in Eddie’s house if he was just going to abandon him? It would’ve been so much more merciful… Vic just couldn’t understand how all of their love could disappear so fast. They used to spend all day holding each other and kissing… They took care of each other in every way possible. How could Kellin just leave him like this? Didn’t he care at _all_ about how Vic was doing or was he just desperate to forget everything that happened?

Vic didn’t want forgotten about like that. He didn’t want thrown away like trash. Kellin had been the only thing that made him happy and now that he was gone, Vic just felt hollow. It made him feel guilty that his parents and his brother weren’t enough to make him happy, but they could never understand him the way Kellin did…

Vic buried himself in his blankets even though he knew he couldn’t sleep yet. He had to eat dinner, then he could take his pills and sleep. He just had to be patient, then he could make it all go away. He had just about got his nerves under control again—his crying mostly stopped—when the doorbell rang, setting him off again. 

No one who wanted to cause harm rang the doorbell and he knew that, but it did nothing to stop his tremors. It was just Jaime… It was just Jaime coming back for dinner, but he hated that someone else was coming into his home again.

His anxiety just got worse when he heard someone knocking on his bedroom door. He knew it was probably just his mother calling him for dinner, but he didn’t like it. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest and all the mounting stress was ruining his appetite. He didn’t want dinner anymore—he wanted his pills and he wanted to sleep. 

“Vic?” It was Mike, and he didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door. “You should…come out here for a minute.” His tone of voice put Vic even more on edge. He sounded nervous, and if he was nervous then something was really very _wrong._

“What’s the matter?” Vic asked, making himself sit up and push away his blankets. 

“Nothing’s the matter. There’s just…someone here to see you.”

Vic stared at him, his skin prickling. Someone was here to see him? No one ever came to see him. Ever. 

“Not… It’s not the cops is it? I don’t want to answer any more questions. I’ve told them everything I know, Mike…”

“No. Vic, it’s not the cops. Just come out here. If you don’t want to visit with him, we’ll tell him to go.”

Vic felt his stomach grow tight again. Him?

“Is it Tony?” Vic asked. He’d been made to talk to Tony on the phone once or twice and it hadn’t gone very well at all. He was awful at talking to people…he never knew what to say. Why did his brother insist on making him see them?

“No. Come on.”

Vic tried so hard to read Mike’s expression and guess who was in his home if not Jaime, but his brother was unreadable. 

“Mike, you’re scaring me,” Vic said, mot making any movements to get out of his bed. What if it was Eddie? What if he had their parents at gunpoint and the only thing that would make him spare their lives was if they gave Vic back to him? 

“Vic… There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just come here.”

Shaking, Vic made himself get out of the bed and follow his brother—fearing with every step that he was about to be given back to Eddie.

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin almost burst into tears when the first person he was faced with when the door opened was a man covered in tattoos. He looked so intimidating and Kellin just _knew_ he was about to be taken again. He’d been stupid and reckless and trusted too easily. What if Jaime had just found old photos of Vic and used them to trick him? It would’ve been simple to trick him… He was desperate and gullible, yet still had the audacity to feel betrayed when the tattooed man stared at him. 

“Jaime, what the fuck?” The man asked, looking from Kellin to Jaime. “You can’t just bring people here.”

“Mike, this is Kellin,” Jaime said, his tone suggesting the importance of Kellin’s name to this stranger Kellin had never seen before. 

“What the hell are you trying to do?” Mike asked, glaring at Jaime. His anger was enough to make Kellin back away. He had no idea where he was, but he’d find his way back home on his own. He didn’t want caught in the middle of this. “You don’t know this person—how did you even find this kid?”

“On Facebook. He’s the right person—he knows everything about Vic.”

“So what? Vic’s a mess. He doesn’t need this! What are you trying to do?”

The two kept arguing as Kellin backed away, waiting until he got far enough way that the two men wouldn’t see him before he started to run. By the time they remembered he was there, he hoped to be gone and as far away as possible. 

“Kellin?—Shit, come back.” 

He hadn’t moved quickly enough it seemed because Jaime grabbed him by his jacket and then put an arm around him, guiding him back to the front door. 

“I don’t see why you brought him here. He couldn’t be bothered to see Vic in the hospital, why the hell would you bring him here? I get you’re trying to help, but you’re just going to hurt my brother. He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need to get his heart broken again.”

“Mike, Kellin’s mom told him Vic _died._ That’s why he never came around. Isn’t that right?” Jaime looked to Kellin who could barely force himself to nod. Mike, in all of his tattoos, looked like someone who could easily snap Kellin in half if he wanted to. Kellin didn’t want anywhere near him, whether this was Vic’s brother or not. 

“And you believe that?” Mike asked, glaring at Jaime who was starting to look as nervous as Kellin. This wasn’t good. This was not good at all. He wanted to see Vic, but not at this price. Knowing he was alive should be enough… It was selfish to want him for more than that, wasn’t it? It would be better for both of them to be apart and forget that it all happened. How could Vic forget if Kellin showed up again?

Kellin tried yet again to back away, but the time Jaime grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let go. He was trapped and he hated it. He felt like he was going to throw up, terrified that one of these two men was about to turn their rage on him. 

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Jaime. The police have been all over Vic since he woke up. You think they weren’t all over this kid, too? One of them had to have mentioned something about Vic being awake.”

Now they were both looking at Kellin for answers and he didn’t know what to say. He hated to admit that he’d started crying and his throat felt so tight he couldn’t speak if he’d wanted to. No one told him _anything_ about Vic. He’d spent weeks having nightmares about Vic dying, terrorized with his own guilt until he couldn’t even see a purpose in staying alive—found it an offense to keep living when Vic had suffered to death. 

He would be sure to kill himself now, though. Vic’s brother was looking at him with so much hatred and Kellin didn’t want to live with those eyes burned into his brain. Vic wasn’t doing well and it was _his fault._ He’d failed Vic… He was a source of pain. He would be better off dead—he wouldn’t hurt anymore, his mother wouldn’t have to look at him like a waste of space, and Vic would never have to waste another thought on him.

When he got home, he decided—or maybe even before he reached the house—he would end his life. He’d cut himself, or jump into traffic. He’d do something. He’d end this before anything worse could happen. 

“Look, all I know is what he told me. I _believe_ him. Vic misses Kellin. You can’t deny that. What’s the harm in letting him see him?”

That question seemed to have Mike stumped. He stood there, glaring at Jaime, for a long time before he finally stepped back into his house and gestured them both inside. 

Kellin didn’t want to follow and tried to resist when Jaime pulled him, but ended up in the warm living room regardless. He felt like he didn’t belong here. It was too clean, too neat, and smelled like food. Vic lived here, and his _family_ lived here… He was an intruder.

As soon as he was in the door, there was a man glaring at him with suspicion and a woman standing in a distant doorway watching him with the same reserve. 

“Who’s this?” The woman asked, clearly unhappy about a stranger being in her home.

“This is Kellin,” Jaime said, keeping his voice low. 

Kellin watched as the woman’s face widened in surprise, but the man on the couch remained stern. He reminded Kellin of Brad and Eddie combined. 

He wanted out of here, but every time he tried to back toward the door Jaime would grab him and stop him. 

Then Mike came back into the room and someone trailed in behind him.

Vic. 

Kellin’s heart fluttered and his stomach flipped as he stared at Vic—taking in every detail he could. He looked so small and frail, dressed in baggy jeans and a sweater that was far too big on him. Vic was staring at the floor as he came into the room, but once he looked up their eyes met and Kellin couldn’t look away. Vic looked so shocked and his mouth fell open, but he didn’t say anything. 

Kellin stared at him for several seconds before he burst into tears. Knowing he was still alive wasn’t the same as _seeing_ him. Vic hardly looked any better than he did when Kellin had seen him last—dying in Eddie’s bed. 

“Kellin?” Vic stammered before swallowing hard. Once Vic spoke his name, Kellin rushed toward him. Mike tried to grab him and stop him, but Kellin had his arms wrapped around Vic’s shoulders and refused to let go when the man started pulling on him. He couldn’t help himself. He buried his face in Vic’s neck and cried harder than he ever had—even from Eddie’s tortures. 

He tried telling Vic he was sorry, but his words were swallowed by his tears. He’d gone so long thinking Vic was _dead,_ taken from him because of his failure. Seeing Vic and actually getting to _hold_ him felt like a gift—like forgiveness. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed at how emotional he’d become. Mike kept trying to pull him back from Vic, but Kellin wouldn’t let go. He _needed_ this. He wouldn’t hurt Vic and if Vic told him to let go he would, but until that moment he wanted to pretend like he had a right to be this close to Vic again. 

“Mike, don’t! He—he’s fine,” Vic said, his voice just as gentle as Kellin remembered. “You’re fine. You’re okay, Kellin. It’s okay.” 

Kellin sobbed even harder when he felt Vic start holding him in return. Vic was petting his hair and Kellin felt as if they’d been transported back to Eddie’s—back where they could be alone together and pretend no one else in the world existed. 

“I’m so sorry, Vic,” Kellin cried, trying so hard to make his voice even slightly comprehensible. “I’m sorry.” He tried to explain what happened but he knew Vic couldn’t understand him. Vic just kept shushing him and holding him as Kellin cried into his neck and chest. He wanted to ask Vic if he were alright—he wanted to ask forgiveness and beg Vic to understand why he’d never visited him in the hospital—but his voice kept cutting out and all he felt capable of was shaking and crying. 

Vic would never understand how sorry he was or how much he wished he could go back and do things differently. 

“Kells, calm down. It’s okay. I’m here…” Vic was kept stroking his hair and then slowly started lowering them both to the floor. Kellin didn’t even realize until he was sitting down just how hard he was shaking. He was crying so much that it was hard to breathe and no matter what Vic said, Kellin couldn’t regain his composure. He felt guilty for making Vic take care of him when he’d come here to help Vic feel better. 

Everyone was watching them and Kellin could sense it the longer they sat there. Vic didn’t seem as bothered by it as Kellin, however. He just kept cooing and trying to comfort him, squeezing him tighter every now and then when Kellin would start choking. 

“Jaime, you could’ve warned me you were bringing someone else. I’d have made more for dinner,” Kellin heard the woman say. “Vic, darling, get him off the floor, could you? That can’t be comfortable. Come sit on the couch. Mike, help your brother.”

Kellin gasped when he felt hands clutching at his arms and tried to stand up on his own to get the men to stop pulling on him. 

“Mike, don’t—don’t! He doesn’t like that. I’ve got him. Let go. Come on, Kells.” Vic guided Kellin over to the couch and sat down beside him, keeping an arm around him. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. Where have you been, Kells? I was worried about you.”

The man who had been sitting on the couch stood up as soon as Kellin and Vic came over, and Kellin waited until he was completely out of view before trying to explain what he’d been too choked up to express before. 

“My mom told me you were dead,” Kellin cried, daring to touch Vic’s cheek as he spoke to him. Vic flinched and Kellin drew back, his stomach tightening again as Vic’s eyes widened. 

“Your… She said I… Why?” Vic asked.

“I-I don’t know. I never would’ve left you like that, Vic. Never. You know that—you have to know that.”

“Well… I wondered where you were,” Vic said, shifting around on the couch so he could face Kellin better. He spoke softly even though they were alone in the room, trying to keep their conversation as private as possible so everyone in the kitchen didn’t have to hear each word as it was spoken. “It just didn’t seem like you to disappear like that. You… You got me out. I couldn’t understand why you didn’t want to see me.” 

“I _did_ want to. I think about you all the time. I-I have nightmares every time I sleep about all the bad things—”

“Let’s—Let’s not talk about that now,” Vic said, sounding a little panicked. He didn’t want to think about those things any more than Kellin did. “Your mom told you I _died?_ Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know. I came here as soon as I found out you weren’t—I haven’t asked her but I will. I don’t know why she’d do this to us,” Kellin said, scooting closer to Vic. He dared to put a hand on Vic’s knee and felt his heart flutter when Vic placed his hand on Kellin’s. 

“I thought you didn’t want to see me at all,” Vic said, his eyes still full of hurt and disbelief. Kellin wanted to lean in and kiss him—show him that all of his love was still there for the taking—but feared Vic would turn him down. He didn’t want rejected. 

“Vic, I _love_ you. I want to be with you—I’d never abandon you. Not on purpose.” Kellin tried to show how sincere he was, but Vic was staring at him with doubt. “Vic… Please. I never meant to hurt you. I got you out and they wouldn’t tell me how you were except that you went into surgery—then my mom told me you didn’t make it.” 

Still, Vic looked doubtful. 

“I had nightmares about it, Vic. I don’t sleep anymore. I-I… Please believe me. I didn’t want us to be apart. I climbed over barbed wire to get you help,” he said, showing Vic his palms. “If I didn’t want to be with you I would never have gone back to the house. I did it for you…”

Vic was staring down at Kellin’s hands, then grabbed them both and held them. 

“So you… You didn’t forget about me?” It was such a foolish question and Kellin could barely believe Vic asked it of him. Forget about him? That wasn’t even a possibility if Kellin _wanted_ it to be. 

“Of course not. I _love_ you,” Kellin insisted, moving closer until he felt comfortable enough to put his head down on Vic’s shoulder. The collar of his shirt was still damp from Kellin crying on him. “I missed you so much.”

After a moment of sitting in silence, Vic moved to put his arms around Kellin. He pulled him to his chest and rested his head against Kellin’s, nuzzling him and sighing softly. 

“I thought you wanted away from me,” Vic whispered. 

“No. I love you.” He kept saying it, but Vic never said it back. That was frightening. His mother had already robbed him of so much…now she’d taken Vic’s love from him too. 

“Vic, dinner’s on the table,” Vic’s mother called.

“Come on,” Vic said, slowly starting to stand and pulling Kellin with him. 

Kellin moved with him, not sure how this dinner was going to play out. He didn’t want asked the awkward questions and doubted Vic would have much to say either.

“It’s not enchiladas like we talked about,” Vic said, stopping just outside the doorway to the dining room. Kellin peered around him at the table, but looked away as soon as he saw Vic’s father watching him. “Maybe she can make those next time…if you come over again.”

There it was. All of Vic’s doubt. He was afraid Kellin wasn’t going to bother trying to see him again. It showed in his eyes as he stared at Kellin. 

“Come over?—I…I might never leave. I don’t want to let you go,” Kellin said, trying to smile for him as he reached out and grabbed Vic’s hand. 

Vic flinched away from him, then took Kellin’s hand on his own and pulled him a step away from the doorway—out of view of his family. 

Kellin wondered if Vic wanted to say something to him in private, but the next thing he knew Vic was kissing him. Kellin felt it like a bolt of electricity through his whole body. The first kiss was so gentle, but then Vic kissed him again with a little more force. Kellin tried to reciprocate, but as soon as he got the idea, Vic had pulled away from him and hurried into the dining room—leading Kellin along behind him by his hand. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic couldn’t believe it. He felt like it must be a dream—or a nightmare that had yet to take the turn into darkness. Kellin was laying in bed with him, sleeping on his chest just like he used to at Eddie’s. Dinner had gone well even though Kellin shook the whole time and Mike kept staring at him, making everything worse. It was awkward, but Kellin didn’t break down again and Vic’s father managed to keep his obvious suspicions to himself. 

After dinner, Vic showed Kellin to his room so they could talk for a while without his parents eavesdropping—though Mike showed up in the doorway repeatedly. Kellin seemed to be afraid of him, but Vic understood how the tattoos could make him nervous. He hoped that with time Mike would realize Kellin wasn’t dangerous and would lay off the intimidation tactics. 

Kellin had a lot to say about what he’d been going through since he got out of Eddie’s house, though at first he didn’t seem to want to say much. He was more concerned with how Vic was healing and if he needed any more surgeries or doctor’s visits. Once he saw the array of pill bottles next to Vic’s bed, his concerns tripled as well. He didn’t seem satisfied when Vic told him what they were for. 

Kellin’s mother wouldn’t take him to see a doctor or a therapist for his nightmares. She’d cleaned out his room and was slowly turning it into a nursery for her new baby. She was replacing Kellin… Vic couldn’t understand how she could do that to him. He was so clearly hurt by it and Vic couldn’t stand to see him so unhappy. Kellin had been through hell. He deserved to come home to his own bedroom and sense of belonging. 

When Kellin fell asleep on his chest, Vic laid still and let him rest. He felt so much better with Kellin in his arms. All of his doubt, all of his pain, seemed to be slowly trickling away. Kellin didn’t hate him. Kellin hadn’t abandoned him or replaced him. He’d been lied to—for whatever reason—but he was back now and nothing had changed. 

Vic almost expected Kellin to push him away when they kissed, but he didn’t. He was slow to reciprocate at first, but once they were alone together he kissed back just as deeply as he had when they’d been trapped with Eddie. Their love was still there and Vic was so grateful. 

It felt _right_ to have Kellin here with him. He felt whole again. He finally had the one person who understood him back in his arms. He didn’t have to explain to Kellin why he needed anti-depressants and sleeping pills. He didn’t feel guilty every time he flinched or twitched. Kellin did the same thing. Kellin didn’t look at Vic’s scars and wonder if it was okay to ask about them—he knew where they came from. He understood how much pain was still buried underneath Vic’s skin where it couldn’t be seen. 

As he slept, Vic stroked Kellin’s hair and worked through the tangles. It looked like no one had been taking care of the boy and that broke his heart. He was still so thin and he had dark circles under his eyes from his lack of sleep. Vic wished he could just keep Kellin here with him forever like they talked about. 

He’d give anything in the world to have Kellin stay—even just for tonight. Just one night…

“Vic?”

Vic looked up at the doorway where Mike and Jaime both stood. They were looking at him with pity and he hated that, but he just held Kellin a little tighter—showing he was comfortable with how close the boy was and daring them to say one wrong word to him about it. 

“I should probably take him home,” Jaime said. “It’s getting really late.”

Vic looked down at Kellin but couldn’t find it in his heart to wake him. He didn’t want him to go either. He’d just gotten him back… They couldn’t take him away again. It was _cruel._

“He lives two hours from here, Vic. He’s got to go. Jaime can’t be out all night.” Mike was looking at him expectantly and Vic finally caved and told them he’d get Kellin ready to go. 

When he door closed, he started rocking Kellin back and forth in hopes of waking him without frightening him. Kellin whined as he opened his eyes and started to hold Vic tighter—seeming to know right away that it was time for him to leave. 

“Jaime says he has to take you home…”

“But I told Mom I was staying the night with Gabe. I want to stay…”

“You said you were staying the night?” Vic asked, doubtful that Kellin would’ve been that bold. Vic couldn’t bear to leave his house even to go shopping for new clothes—how could Kellin feel secure enough to sleep somewhere other than home? How would his mother believe that?

“I’ll have Mom come get me tomorrow,” Kellin said sleepily. “I just got you back. I don’t want to leave.”

“You… You really asked to stay the night?”

“Mhm,” Kellin mumbled, nuzzling Vic’s chest. 

“Well… Well, okay,” Vic said, smiling and holding Kellin as tightly as he could. His parents would put up a fight, but Vic wasn’t going to let them chase Kellin out early. He felt like he was finally going to be able to sleep through the night—maybe even without taking his pills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the final one! Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the epilogue!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. This chapter got really hella long. So...apologies but one more chapter after this? ;)

Vic hadn’t taken his sleeping pills. Kellin asked him about them just before they stopped talking and started slipping off into sleep. Vic said he wouldn’t need them so long as the two of them were together. He felt safer with Kellin, he’d said. He felt happier and warmer. There was no way he needed the pills to sleep when he had Kellin with him again.

But then Kellin woke up to the sounds of Vic struggling to breathe. He was shaking in his sleep, so far gone in his night terror to feel it when Kellin tried to wake him. 

“Vic?” Kellin shook him by his shoulder, but Vic just laid there shivering. His lips kept trembling as he wheezed, sounding as if he were being strangled. His hands twitched as if he were struggling to lift them, but he jerked them away when Kellin tried to hold one. “Vic?—Please wake up. Wake up!” 

Kellin tried smoothing his hair and kissing his forehead, but Vic just kept shaking and gasping. About the time Kellin was beginning to think he may need to call for someone—that this may be something more severe than a night terror—Vic started forming words. He was crying for Eddie, the man’s name spilling past his lips over and over in a quiet, desperate whine. 

“No, no… Vic, I’m here.” Kellin kissed his temple, trying to shush him or comfort him in any way that he could until, finally, Vic’s eyes snapped open. “Hey—Hey, it’s okay. Calm down.”

Vic stared at him, his chest still heaving and his breaths sharp. He watched Kellin’s hand every time he’d move to stroke Vic’s hair, but would flinch away before Kellin could touch him. 

“Vic?”

“K-Kellin?”

“Yeah—Yeah, it’s just me,” Kellin said, trying to smile for him but unable to with Vic looking at him with so much fear. It reminded him of Eddie’s house, and no matter how many times he told Brad and his mother that he’d rather be back there, Kellin didn’t ever want to go back. The nightmares were bad enough. Nightmares he had no one to help him through or pills to suppress. 

“Eddie,” Vic whispered, sitting up and pushing Kellin back from him.

“Eddie’s gone—he can’t hurt you. Are you okay?” 

“Eddie?” Vic called again, shoving back all of his blankets as if he hadn’t heard a single thing Kellin said. 

“Vic, he’s gone! Where are you going?” Kellin tried to reach for Vic’s wrist when the man got up from the bed, but Vic yanked away from him and stumbled for the door muttering to himself. “Vic, what are you doing?” Kellin asked, following after him and turning on the light before Vic could get the bedroom door open. 

“H-Have… Have to m-make… for Eddie.” As soon as the lights turned on, Vic turned away from the door and peered at Kellin, blinking hard as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights. 

“Vic, stop. It was a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare.” Kellin put his hands on Vic’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “You’re okay. Eddie’s not here. No one’s going to hurt you.” 

Vic stared at him, then looked around his bedroom—as if to verify that _this_ wasn’t the dream—then nodded his head. 

“Are you okay?” Kellin asked, continuing to run his hands up and down Vic’s arms.

“I…I need the bathroom,” Vic said, pulling away from Kellin and opening the door. He kept his head ducked as he made his way to the bathroom. Kellin thought for a moment that Vic was alright, that he’d come down for the nightmare, but then there was a loud thud in the bathroom followed immediately by the sounds of Vic gagging. 

“Vic?” Kellin called, moving to go into the bathroom. Before he could reach it, however, the door to Kellin’s left flung open and Mike was there. 

“What the hell did you do to him?” The man asked.

Kellin fell backwards, more than intimidated by Vic’s brother. It didn’t matter if this was Vic’s younger brother—he was larger, his eyes were colder, and his tone was never friendly. 

“H-He had a nightmare,” Kellin whispered, torn between going into the bedroom to hide and pushing past Mike to reach Vic in the bathroom. He was sick—he needed someone to comfort him and bring him water. He needed cared for.

“Did he take his pills?” Mike asked, scowling at Kellin as though he were the one who’d told Vic not to take them. Before Kellin could answer, Mike pushed his way into the bathroom and started speaking to Vic in a voice far gentler than Kellin thought possible. “Are you okay?—Did he do something to you?”

Vic gagged again then choked out a shaky answer—no, Kellin didn’t hurt him; yes, he was alright. Mike kept pushing until Vic confessed the details of his nightmare—just another bad night with Eddie, getting whipped and told to go make dinner despite the blood. 

As he whispered the awful story, Kellin found his way to the kitchen and filled the first clean glass he could find with water and hurried to bring it to Vic in the bathroom. Both Vic and his brother were sitting on the floor next to the toilet. Mike had put a towel around Vic’s shoulders in a makeshift blanket, and Vic was using one corner of it to wipe his mouth when Kellin stepped into the room. 

“I… I brought water,” Kellin said, not sure how to act with Mike there scrutinizing his every move. Mike looked up at him with that same coldness, but Vic managed to offer him a weak smile as he reached eagerly for the cup. 

“Thanks, Kells,” Vic muttered before taking a long drink. “Mike…stop glaring at him like that. It’s _Kellin._ ”

“So what? I didn’t know if he hurt you or what. I don’t know this guy.”

“Well I do,” Vic said, finishing his cup of water and starting to stand up from the floor. Kellin reached out to help him, but Mike stood as well and gently hoisted Vic onto his feet. 

“Do you want more water?” Kellin asked, taking the empty cup from Vic’s hand. 

“Please?” Vic asked, smiling at Kellin weakly. “I… I’m going to brush my teeth, though. Then come back to bed.”

“Okay. I-I’ll just put the water on your desk then,” Kellin said. He wished he could do more—kiss Vic on the cheek or _anything_ to feel more useful. But he couldn’t…not with Mike there. 

Kellin went back into the kitchen to refill the glass, then returned to Vic’s room—pretending he didn’t hear Mike asking Vic over and over if Kellin had done something that hurt him or made him uncomfortable. Vic denied each question and reassured his brother that Kellin was his friend…

His _friend._

Kellin knew Vic wasn’t going to just blurt out that they’d been as close to “boyfriends” as they could come in Eddie’s home, but it hurt. It hurt like a slap across the face. Kellin wanted that recognition. Vic was the one who had pushed and pushed for them to be together when they’d lived with Eddie. He was the one who wanted them to be together, told Kellin he loved him and insisted he wasn’t confused. He gave Kellin the confidence to give in to his own feelings of love, and now he feared those feelings were about to be thrown in his face. 

Vic was all Kellin had left. If Vic didn’t love him anymore…if Vic didn’t want him in the same ways he did when they’d been trapped with Eddie, Kellin didn’t know what he’d do with himself. 

“Kellin, I’m sorry.”

Kellin looked up from Vic’s desk and turned toward the doorway where Vic was standing, the blue towel gone from his shoulders. 

“Sorry? Why?” Kellin asked, grabbing the water and off the desk and taking it to Vic. 

“I don’t know… I-I just feel bad. You didn’t come here to—”

“I came here to be with you. Because I _missed_ you. It’s okay, Vic. I have the nightmares, too. It’s not your fault and you don’t need to feel bad about anything.”

Vic looked at him, his expression still showing so much shame, then came over to get his glass of water. He looked at Kellin before grabbing the cup and taking a sip, standing so close to Kellin that their shoulders nearly touched. 

“Vic, you really don’t need to feel bad,” Kellin said, closing the distance between them in order to give Vic a gentle hug. He rested his chin on Vic’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he felt the tremors which still ran down Vic’s spine. “I’m still so happy you’re alive. I was going crazy thinking I’d gotten you killed.”

“I… I know,” Vic said, still sounding so sad. “But you didn’t come here for me to start throwing up everywhere and—”

“You could puke _on me_ and I’d still be happy to be here. You _don’t_ understand. My mom told me you _died._ I’ve been… Vic, I was thinking about killing myself to be with you. I don’t care if you’re sick. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be right now.”

Vic jerked away from Kellin as soon as he’d mentioned suicide, his eyes immediately locking with Kellin’s.

“Don’t—Don’t say that. It would _kill_ me if something happened to you. It—”

“I know you’re okay now, though,” Kellin interrupted. “All I want is to be where you are. I don’t like being separated. If you’re alive, I’m staying alive.”

“But you’re talking about _suicide,_ Kellin. Those feelings don’t just go away.”

“The only reason I wanted to die is because I thought you were dead! I was going crazy thinking about all the things I could’ve done differently to save you. You know? If I’d been brave enough the night before or if I’d kept looking for houses… I _love_ you, Vic. I couldn’t live with myself thinking I’d gotten you killed. So _please, please_ don’t think you’re a burden because of the nightmare or because you’re sick. I want to be here—I want to help you get better.”

Vic kept staring at him, occasionally opening his mouth to say something then closing it again as the words left him. Finally, he ducked his head and took a final sip of his water before walking over to his bed and sitting down. Kellin followed him and hesitantly sat down beside him. 

“I really did think you wanted to forget about me,” Vic whispered. 

“Never,” Kellin said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why my mom did this to us, but I won’t leave you again.”

“You have to go home eventually,” Vic said.

“Yeah, but I can talk to you online or we can talk on the phone when my mom gets me a new one. I don’t think I can go back to not seeing you every day,” Kellin said, slowly laying back on the bed. He wanted to pull Vic down with him, but didn’t want to frighten him—especially not after his nightmare. 

“I wish you could just stay here,” Vic said, staring blankly ahead of him at the wall. “Like we talked about at Eddie’s. Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Kellin said, rolling onto his back. 

Vic sighed heavily, then moved to lay down as well. The overhead light was still on, but it would probably remain that way. Darkness made nightmares feel more real, no matter who else was in the room to work as a distraction. 

“Kellin?” Vic asked as he folded himself against Kellin’s side.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?—It’s kind of stupid… I really probably shouldn’t, but want to know.”

“What?” Kellin pressed, putting an arm around Vic’s shoulder and simultaneously nuzzling the top of his head. He wanted Vic to trust him like he did when they’d been together at Eddie’s. They told each other everything. There were no boundaries between them, no reason to feel self-conscious. 

“You said you love me…”

“Yeah—I do. I think I’ve said it a hundred times since I got here.”

“I know, but… How do you love me? I mean… Well, not _how,_ but… Do you mean it like how you did at Eddie’s or—”

“I mean I love you,” Kellin said firmly. “I mean I want to spend my life with you—just like we talked about at Eddie’s.”

“My parents don’t… They don’t know about us. Mike does—kind of. I told him a little.”

“I… I don’t think he likes me,” Kellin said softly. 

“No—No, don’t think that,” Vic said, snuggling a little bit closer. He seemed to feel more confident. “Mike’s protective and he doesn’t trust very easily. But if you give him some time, he’ll lighten up. He knows I love you. He wouldn’t dare hurt you.” 

“What did you tell him about me?” Kellin asked, a little more than just curious. Mike seldom looked at him with anything other than suspicion and hate. 

“Lots of things,” Vic said, starting to shuffle around until he and Kellin both were under the blankets. “I don’t tell him about the things Eddie made us do, but he knows how important you are to me.”

“Yeah—but what did you tell him about me?” 

Vic hummed, but didn’t give a real answer. He laid his head on Kellin’s shoulder this time and made to go to sleep, pulling the blanket over his eyes to block out the light.

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin sat in his bed, cradling his cheek against the residual sting. Brad had smacked him—twice. Not to mention the blow to the back of his head he’d gotten as he was escorted to Brad’s car, parked across the street from Vic’s home. He hadn’t even gotten to finish breakfast before Brad started pounding on the front door, demanding Kellin be returned to him. 

Vic’s parents didn’t respond well to the accusations of taking Kellin without telling Brad or his mother—they tried to explain, but Brad wouldn’t listen. Not until Mike got involved anyway. Brad tried to use the same intimidation tactics on Mike that he used on everyone, but as soon as he got in Mike’s face it was as if a switch had been flipped. 

“If you put your hands on me, you’re going to regret it. Get out of my face.” He said it so sternly, so coldly, yet Brad just didn’t listen. He stepped even closer and Mike shoved him backwards despite his mother’s sharply spoken reprimand. “No one in this house is fighting you! You want him, take him,” Mike had hissed, pointing at Kellin. “Don’t you ever try to boss around my family in my goddamned house, do you hear me? If you touch me again, I’m going to put your ass on the floor and kick your teeth in.” 

For whatever reason—whether it was the viciousness in his voice or the intent in his eyes—Mike’s threat worked and Brad backed off. He commanded Kellin to follow him as he started for the front door, hardly giving Kellin any time to apologize to Vic’s family or even hug his best friend goodbye. He tried to explain to Vic what had happened, about how he’d had to lie because he was so desperate to see Vic again, but Brad didn’t give him time. 

Kellin knew Vic saw when Brad slapped him across the back of his head before they reached the car, but knew it changed nothing. He hoped Vic would forgive him, that Mike wouldn’t convince Vic to hate him—that his parents wouldn’t step in a forbid Kellin from ever coming into their house again. He’d _die_ if he couldn’t be with Vic. Life wasn’t worth living if all he had was his mother and Brad.

The entire drive back to their house, Brad belittled him and scolded him. How stupid could he be? How insensitive to his mother could he be? Didn’t he know his mother was having complications with the pregnancy? Didn’t he know how weak she was? 

“I won’t have you putting her at risk again!—I won’t have you putting _my child_ at risk! Do you understand me!?” Brad had screamed. 

That’s all it was ever about. The baby. It was coming and it would replace Kellin, yet for whatever reason they wouldn’t let Kellin just slip away into nonexistence. Brad hated him. His mother knew how much Brad hated him… 

She watched as Brad slapped him both time after they’d gotten home and said _nothing._ She didn’t _care_ that being smacked triggered him. She didn’t care that he’d started shaking. She yelled at him for running off and scaring her, then hugged him and said she was glad he was home, then ordered him to his room after telling him his laptop privileges had been “revoked” until further notice. 

He was isolated again. Completely cut off from the outside world and kept in terror by a man who wanted nothing but to hurt him. 

He may as well be back with Eddie, he thought as he tried to rub the pain out of his cheek. He didn’t understand how his mother could let Brad just _hit him_ like that. She was his mother—she was supposed to stick up for him and protect him. Kellin would give anything to have someone like _Mike_ to protect him. He couldn’t even imagine what would have happened if Brad had spoken a single word to Vic. Mike probably would’ve killed him right there in the living room. 

Kellin fantasized about how it would play out as he laid down in the bed. Brad gone—stomped to death or beaten to death by Mike. Sure, his mother would be sad to lose her new husband, but maybe then she’d go back to loving Kellin like she used to. 

It was as if she’d forgotten the hell Eddie put him through—or just didn’t care. When she saw the scars on his arms from the dog bites, she asked about them but quickly shushed him and hugged him when he tried to explain. She said she didn’t want to know—that it hurt too much to imagine. Now she watched her husband smack him around and didn’t say a single word in his defense.

She didn’t love him anymore…

It hurt. 

The one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally had replaced him when he was gone and didn’t want him back now that he’d returned. She wasn’t like Vic’s mother. She and Vic had made breakfast together while Kellin watched from the doorway, wishing he could get involved but afraid to interrupt them. Vic’s mother would put a hand on her son’s shoulder or pat his back every few minutes—always touching him, always close to him. She loved her son. She was happy to have him home. If someone tried to hurt Vic, she would probably stand up for him the same way Mike had. 

She wouldn’t stand by and watch someone slap Vic around… She didn’t even try packing up his things even though Vic had been gone for six years. She kept everything as it had been—she didn’t pack his things into boxes and take them to the Goodwill to make room for a new baby. 

The only thing Kellin couldn’t understand was if his mother _hated_ him so much, why didn’t she just let him stay with Vic? Why couldn’t she have let him go? It was more than obvious that she didn’t want him around. 

Kellin was laying on his side, staring at the wall as his thoughts ran wild. He was making plans to run away again when he heard a soft knocking at his door. He rolled over to face the door, but didn’t speak as he watched his mother step into his room and close the door behind her.

“Kellin…we need to talk.”

Kellin bit back the first words that came to mind—a snide remark that would just serve to make her angrier—and just stared as she came over to sit on his bed, holding her pregnant belly. Whatever she wanted to say, it was about the baby, not him.

“Brad and I had a talk about what happened.”

“About you lying to me about Vic or about him hitting me?” Kellin asked, not wanting to hear her belittle him the same way Brad had on their drive home. Yes, he’d been reckless. Yes, he’d been bad. Yes, he should’ve been honest about where he was going, but she would’ve told him no and he _had_ to see Vic. 

“Listen, I only said those things about…about Vic because they said in the hospital that he probably wasn’t going to make it through the surgery. I didn’t want you to keep asking about him when we needed you to focus on getting yourself better.”

“Vic was my best friend,” Kellin said, scowling at her in an attempt to hide how much pain it caused him. Hearing that Vic had died _crushed_ him. He’d been planning a suicide for weeks—unable to sleep, unable to eat. He just didn’t understand how she could put him through that. 

“I know that, but you can’t run away from home to go see him. All you had to do was tell me and—”

“And what? It’s not like you’d take me to see him! You won’t drive because of the baby and Brad wouldn’t drive me—he hates me.”

“He doesn’t _hate_ you.”

“Yes he does! You’re delusional, Mom! You let him _hit_ him! You just stood there and watched! You didn’t even care!”

“What was I supposed to do? You were getting him worked up. I’ve told you a hundred times not to talk back to him.”

“But you’ve never bothered to tell him _once_ not to hit me.” Kellin stared at his mother, waiting for her to repeat herself or deflect the statement. Instead, she just said nothing. She sat on his bed and held onto her stomach in silence. “You don’t even want me here. Why can’t you just leave me with Vic? I’d be out of the way—you could have my whole room for the nursery like you wanted.”

“I am not _giving you away_ to Vic,” she said, fixing him with a stern glare, as if his statement were completely unjustified. 

“Well, I’m not staying here,” Kellin said. “You can take the laptop, you can have Brad put bars on my fucking window, but I’m not staying here.”

“I just got you back, Kellin. You can’t run away again.”

“Why not? He hates me—you want him around more than you want me. I don’t want to live like that.”

“Brad just needs time to adjust to having you around again—”

“Just stop making excuses for him! That’s all you do! That’s all you _ever_ do! Why can’t you just stick up for me for once?” 

Again, his mother kept her silence, unable to answer the tough questions. 

“Mom… Vic’s family likes me. Just let me stay with them. You know you don’t want me here anyway.”

“I _do_ want you here,” his mother snapped, turning to look at him and scowling. “You just need to stop picking fights with Brad.”

“I don’t pick fights! Mom, _please!_ Take my side for _once._ I-I was gone a year! He did awful things to me. Why can’t you empathize with _me_ for once and not _Brad!?”_

“For all I knew, you ran away—Brad was there for me through everything. I can’t—”

“You _can’t_ pick me over Brad? Then let me leave, Mom. Let me stay with Vic’s family.”

“I can’t just send you to live with strangers! You’re my son. You’re staying here with me.”

“No, I’m not,” Kellin said. He had Vic’s address. He’d walk there if he had to. There was nothing in this house for him. Not one single thing. There was nothing his mother could say that would convince him to stay. All her promises were empty anyway…

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic seemed lost after Kellin left their house. He stayed in the living room after Kellin had gone, staring at the door as if he expected Kellin to come back even though he’d heard the altercation. Kellin’s parents were _pissed_ when they found out where he’d gone. He wasn’t coming back again—not with their consent anyway. Vic didn’t seem to comprehend that, however. He stared at the door, then showered and took his sleeping pills.

He stayed in his room until lunch the next day, then skipped dinner in favor of taking more sleeping pills. He was stressed and anxious, and Mike couldn’t stand watching him fall apart. Seeing Kellin was supposed to help him get better—not make things worse. 

Jaime had tried to talk to Kellin again through Facebook, but got no answer. Mike tried to friend him but never got a response. He doubted Kellin was intentionally ignoring them since he’d been so clearly enamored with Vic as soon as they were reunited. He couldn’t keep his hands off him and Vic reciprocated all of the touching and attention. Mike would never get the image of that boy laying on Vic’s chest out of his head…

No, Kellin wasn’t ignoring them, he was being kept from them—and with good cause. As far as Kellin’s mother knew, someone tried kidnapping her child again. Of course she was going to keep him from talking to “strangers” on the internet. 

Vic didn’t seem to see it that way, though. For him, Kellin had abandoned him again and it broke his heart even worse than the first time—though he never spoke a word about it. Their mother had tried asking about him and Kellin about a week after the visit—after she noticed Vic started wearing the sweater Kellin had on when he’d come over—but Vic refused to give a committal answer. 

Mike couldn’t blame him though. He’d been put through unspeakable tortures in that psychopath’s house. The only person he had to go to for comfort was Kellin, and the only person Kellin had was Vic. Of course they’d grown attached to one another. He wasn’t going to want to explain that to their parents. 

And what could he tell them anyway? That he was straight before but after all the abuse Kellin became his new exception? Their parents weren’t going to understand that… Hell, Mike barely understood it. 

Before he disappeared, Vic had been all over his girlfriend. He had her picture everywhere, called her all the time, talked about how great she was at everything… Now that he’d come home he’d gotten rid of her pictures, vehemently refused any offer to get back in contact with her, and grimaced every time someone would mention her name. All that affection seemed to have transferred to Kellin, regardless of the fact that Kellin was very much male. 

Mike would like to believe that they were just close friends, but the way Kellin had laid himself on Vic’s chest as if he belonged there—not to mention the very distinct sounds of kissing Mike had heard through the door—told a different story. When Vic loved someone, he invested everything he had in that person. That person became the center of his universe and nothing was going to stop him from proving that love in any way he could.

He and Kellin were together, and that was why it broke Vic’s heart so much for them to be separated. He’d become dependent on him and was struggling to find a way to live without him. 

It was pathetic, but Mike wasn’t going to say a thing to him about it. He’d been through hell. He was allowed to fall apart without being judged for it. 

As it was, Mike sat on the couch watching crime drama reruns with his father while his mother prepared lunch. Vic was still pretending to be asleep even though Mike could hear him shifting around restlessly on his bed whenever he would walk past the doorway. 

“You should take Vic out sometime,” his father said when the commercials came on.

“And take him where? He threw up in a trash can when Mom took him to the mall, he threw up when we took him out to dinner... He doesn’t like to go out. It gives him anxiety.”

“Then take him to the beach—take him somewhere there aren’t so many people.”

“The beach is crowded. He likes being at home.”

“Staying at home isn’t helping to get him better. He’s had a few months to adjust, now he needs to start…pushing his limits a little. Get a routine started. We’ve got to do something to get him out of bed.”

Mike hummed in agreement, though he couldn’t think of anything to get Vic motivated without stressing him. He could always gather the things Vic needed to study for his GED, but he couldn’t see Vic being able to focus enough to study. He was depressed and confused and so heavily medicated anymore that he acted like a zombie. His therapist had him on pills for everything except staying awake. 

“I think he listens more to you than us. If you took him out, he’d probably be more comfortable.”

Mike started to form his reply, but then the landline phone began to ring. His mother picked up with a pleasant greeting, but her tone changed almost immediately and both Mike and his father turned around to look at her.

“Wait—who is this?” She asked, her brow furrowing for a moment before her eyes went wide. “Oh! Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Who’s on the phone?” Mike’s father asked, staring at his wife who held up her finger—gesturing for him to wait a moment as she continued her conversation.

“Oh… That’s—That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Who’s on the phone?” Her husband asked again, more demanding this time. 

“Hang on just a moment, could you? Just a second,” she said before lowering the phone from her ear. “It’s Kellin’s mother.”

“What the hell does she want?” He asked. Mike seconded his father’s inquiry, still angry about how forceful Kellin’s stepfather had been when he’d come to retrieve Kellin. 

“If you’d let me talk to her, I could tell you,” she said, scowling at her husband before turning her back to his as she returned to the phone call. “Sorry about that. What were you saying?—Oh. Oh!—That’s not good at _all!”_

For a while after that her conversation mainly consisted of soft hums and repetition of the phrase “that’s not good.” She was pacing around the kitchen and called Mike to tend to their food even though he hardly knew what he was doing. Vic was the one who liked to cook with her, but she wasn’t about to command him to come out of his tomb of a bedroom. 

“Well… Well, that’s a really loaded request, don’t you think? I mean, taking in another boy—”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence. Her husband had gotten up from the couch to stand closer, trying to overhear what was being said. As soon as he heard the request, he snatched the phone from his wife’s hand and answered the question for her. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Vic could hear his father yelling at someone over the phone. It set off his anxiety, but he was trying to stop taking his pills so early in the day. His therapist told him he needed to start coping, not medicating. He couldn’t get better if all he did was sleep. He couldn’t get better if all he did was drug himself so he couldn’t wake up from his nightmares. He needed to fill his life with something besides sleep. He needed to face his issues instead of sleeping them away. 

It was hard though…especially when people in his home started raising their voices. Yelling reminded him of Eddie. Yelling made him cower and submit, even if he wasn’t on the receiving end of the anger. 

He wasn’t the one on the other side of the telephone call, but he wanted to apologize to his father regardless—just to get the shouting to stop. 

Even after the call presumably ended and the house returned to its prior, quiet state, Vic couldn’t feel relieved. He was waiting for the knock on his door. Mike was going to come check on him and make sure he wasn’t trying to hurt himself or take too many pills because of the stress. 

Sure enough, not ten minutes after the house went quiet, there was a knock at the door and Mike appeared. 

“Hey, Mom and Dad need to talk to you,” he said. It was impossible for Mike to understand how fearful those words made him. It meant the shouting had been about him—that it was his fault everyone was so unhappy. 

“Okay,” Vic said, scratching at his wrist a moment before getting off his bed and following his brother to the living room. He tried to pull the sleeves of his sweater over his arms so he’d stop scratching before he broke his skin again, but when he saw his parents standing by the couch he lost his reserve. The crawling feeling on his arms infected him and he had no choice but to dig at the skin of his wrist the whole time his parents spoke to him. 

“We got a call from Kellin’s mom,” his mother said. 

Vic’s first impulse was to apologize—it was what Eddie would expect to hear if he came to Vic with a complaint—but he bit it back and merely nodded. 

“She said that Kellin’s not getting along very well with her husband and…asked if we could take him in.” His mother didn’t look pleased at all by the idea, but Vic couldn’t help the way his heart leapt at the idea. 

Kellin coming to live with him? It was a dream come true. He’d do anything to have more of what’d he’d gotten that one night, weeks ago. Even if he’d had nightmares, he’d still felt so much safer with Kellin at his side all night. He felt complete again. He was willing to _beg_ if that’s what it took to get his parents to let Kellin stay with him. He’d plead if he had to. 

“We told her if she helped out with the finances we would allow it—if you’re okay with it.”

“We figured you’d be okay with it,” his father chipped in. He looked disappointed, but as the head of household he was bound to be skeptical about someone new moving in—especially if he wasn’t convinced that Kellin’s mother would pay for her son’s needs. 

Vic knew he needed to say something, but he was still picking at his wrist—unable to form words. He was excited, but he was bitten by guilt as well. His family was burdened enough by him and they didn’t deserve to be burdened with Kellin as well. But he _loved_ Kellin. Being with Kellin was his only chance at recovery. His parents had to understand that, too. 

Having Kellin with him would give his life purpose again. As it was, he didn’t need to be anything more than a hermit who remained locked in his bedroom. If Kellin moved in, he’d have to set a good example. He’d have a reason to get up, to focus more on the studying he had to do to get his GED, to get a _job_ even. And he could be there for Kellin, too. He could help him with his homework and encourage him to start feeling better. They could support each other. It could be just like they’d dreamed.

“Do you mind if he moves in?” His mother asked, smiling at him in a somewhat exhausted way. No one was going to be happy with it expect for him. Kellin had caused them nothing but chaos and they didn’t know anything about him. They didn’t know him like Vic did. They only agreed because they hoped it would make Vic better—and Vic swore to himself at that moment that he would get better, just to show his appreciation. 

“I-I don’t mind,” Vic stammered, still trying to work through all of his thoughts. “I want him here. He hates being at his mom’s house. We can’t leave him there.”

His parents shared a knowing look before declaring the issue settled. They would pick him up after lunch and get fast food for dinner on the drive home. Within three hours, Vic would be reunited with Kellin. He would be able to hold him again and kiss him—and find out what happened that made his mother want to turn him out of her house less than six months after he’d come home. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin sat on the front steps of his house, staring at the road and waiting for Vic’s family to arrive. He knew it was a two hour drive, but he’d lost his patience within thirty minutes. As soon as he heard they were coming, he’d stuffed what was left of his belongings into plastic grocery bags and gathered them around him on the porch steps. His mother tried to get him inside, but Kellin couldn’t go back in there—he wouldn’t. Not with Brad there. He wasn’t going to let that man anywhere near him again. 

He was still shaking and every now and then he’d chance a look down at his wrists to see how dark the bruises were getting. After the first hour the bruises had reached their darkest shade—a deep purple shade that wrapped all the way around his wrists. His mother would occasionally come outside and try to talk to him, try to get him to show her the marks Brad at left on him, but Kellin would ignore her and pull the sleeves of Vic’s hoodie down as far over his hands as he could. She would just tell him he shouldn’t have gotten Brad’s attention or something stupid like that. She would find a way to make it Kellin’s fault when Brad was the one who started it.

He’d had an anxiety attack—a flashback—and Brad attacked him for it. Pinned him to the couch and yelled in his face. He screamed for his mother to help him, to make Brad let him go, to make him _stop,_ but she waited so long before finally telling Brad to get off of him. She just stood there and watched. 

Kellin _begged_ her to help him, and she just…stood there. Brad had him pinned on the couch, all of his weight holding Kellin down and pressing him into the cushions. The man’s face was dangerously close to his own. Everything about the position reminded him of Eddie on that first night—and every night that followed. 

All because he’d started having an anxiety attack. All because he’d tried pushing Brad away when the man sat too close to him on the couch. Brad said he needed to calm down, Kellin couldn’t, and the next thing he knew he was pinned and Brad was over top of him.

For a moment he couldn’t tell if it was Brad or Eddie who had him trapped. Everything turned dark and panic consumed him—he couldn’t hear what Brad was saying to him, he just felt the man’s bruising grip on his wrists. 

He didn’t know how long it lasted before his mother finally stepped over and started pushing Brad back by his shoulders. 

She told him to stop _scaring_ Kellin, as if it were all some kind of joke. Stop _scaring_ him. Not “let him go,” not “you’re hurting him,” just “Brad, stop scaring him!” The same thing a parent would say to a child for tormenting its younger sibling. She didn’t take it seriously. She didn’t understand what it meant to Kellin to be pinned that way—she didn’t _care_ until she saw the red marks on his arms that turned fast to bruises. 

He could never forgive her for that, and she knew it. That was the only reason she agreed to call Vic’s parents and talk to them. Because if she didn’t, Kellin was going to leave anyway and try to get the Vic on his own. If she wanted to make sure he got there alive, she would help him. Nothing she said could convince him to stay. 

Brad could yell at him and slap him and call him names, but Kellin wasn’t going to let the man _rape_ him. He wasn’t going to be put through that again. He was going to be with Vic like they talked about at Eddie’s. He was going to go somewhere _safe._

Kellin stared at the street, his heart beating faster every time he heard a car—then sinking every time the cars would drive past without slowing. He just wanted _out_ of here… 

He kept rubbing at his sore wrists as he waited…and waited…and waited until finally a car pulled into his driveway. He bit into his bottom lip, his heart starting to race as he stared at the car. Part of his was afraid it wasn’t Vic’s family—that it was a lost driver or someone Brad had called to terrorize him further—but when the back door opened first, Kellin knew who it was even before Vic stepped into view. 

“Kellin?” Vic was looking at him with concern as he hurried over to the steps. Kellin stood up and reached for him, wrapping him up in a hug as soon as he was close. “What happened? No one’s told me anything—are you okay?”

“No,” Kellin confessed, burying his face in Vic’s shoulder. He was so grateful to be leaving this awful house, so thankful for Vic’s family agreeing to take him in.

“What happened?” Vic asked, his voice heavy with concern. 

Kellin wanted to tell him, but when he looked up, Vic’s parents were nearing them and making to go inside the house.

“Hi, Kellin,” Vic’s mother said, passing his a strained smile as he moved out of her way, allowing her access to the front door. “We’re going to go talk to your parents. You can put your bags in the trunk while you wait.” She patted his shoulder before she knocked on the front door.

Kellin had grabbed all of his bags himself and hurried off the steps before Brad could open the door, not wanting to be anywhere near the man. Vic trailed behind him and, as they neared the car, Mike stepped out and lifted the trunk at Vic’s prompting. 

“Did someone hurt you? You’ve got a bruise on your cheek…” Vic said, standing at Kellin’s side as he hurried to stuff all his bags into the trunk. 

“Brad slapped me,” Kellin said, backing up as Mike slammed the trunk closed. 

“I’m going to go in and find the bathroom,” Mike said, walking past the car and going up to the house.

“He slapped you? Why did he slap you?” Vic asked, touching the bruise on Kellin’s cheek. 

“I don’t know,” Kellin mumbled, letting Vic hold him again. He knew he had to tell Vic what happened, but he couldn’t do it now. He wanted to wait until they were alone, not standing in the driveway—not when they were about to be in the car for two hours with Vic’s whole family. “I just want out of here.”

“Well you’re coming home with me. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.” Vic smiled as he said it, but it was a sad smile—a pitying smile. Kellin looked around at the street and the windows of his house a moment before leaning forward to kiss the side of Vic’s mouth. It made Vic blush and pull away, laughing nervously before he, too, passed a wary look toward the house. 

“I miss you,” Kellin whispered, looking at Vic sadly. He wanted what they’d had at Eddie’s house. He wanted that intimacy back so badly—he _needed it._ But Vic’s family didn’t know about that side of their life. Vic didn’t want them to know about it yet…

( ) ( ) ( )

Mike wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. When his mother first explained to him and his father that Kellin needed a place to stay, he wondered why the kid couldn’t just be sent to live with another relative. Sure, he wanted Kellin to be able to visit Vic—there was no denying how happy that one visit had made his brother—but he didn’t see them living together working out. Coping with Vic’s nightmares and all the other symptoms of his PTSD was hard enough for the family, but they managed because it was _Vic._ They loved him; they were invested in him. They barely knew Kellin and what they did know wasn’t looking so great. 

He was a liar, he liked to run away from home whenever he got the chance, and he apparently couldn’t even try to get along with his stepfather. The very reason Kellin’s mother was trying to move him out of the house was because the two had gotten into a physical altercation—or at least that was what the woman had said on the phone.

The story Mike was eavesdropping on now sounded a lot different. 

Vic and Kellin were outside by the car while Mike was snooping around Kellin’s bedroom—or what was supposed to be his room…or _used_ to be. There was a twin-sized bed in the room as well as a baby’s crib—and a changing table and a rocking chair and a cartoon jungle themed wall paper covering half the walls. It was no room at all for a teenager. Even if he was expected to share the space, the room was more nursery than bedroom. It was clear which child meant more to the family and it certainly wasn’t Kellin. 

Mike’s parents were in the living room talking to Kellin’s parents about what had happened, not concerned at all with what Mike was doing even though it was obvious he hadn’t ever gone to the bathroom like he’d said. If something was going on around him, Mike was determined to know all the details. 

“He’s been so difficult lately and mostly…mostly I think it’s because he misses your son,” Kellin’s mother was trying to explain. “I can’t get him to talk to me, and when he does it’s always about that awful man or—or Vic.”

“Well he’s going to want to talk to someone about those things,” Mike heard his mother say, her voice a bit stern. 

“And that’s fine, but I can’t handle the gritty details—”

“She’s _pregnant,”_ Kellin’s stepfather interjected, speaking over his wife. “She doesn’t need to have him telling her all these stories and stressing her out.”

Mike wanted to punch this man the first time he ever saw him and the impulse was coming back just as strong. They wouldn’t pay for Kellin to see a therapist and wouldn’t let him out to see his friends—who did they expect him to go to for support? No one? Did they really think he would be able to function if he kept the memories to himself? 

Vic always went to someone after his nightmares. He would leave out the “gritty details” for the most part, but he needed to vent to someone. It helped him to voice his fears. It helped him to have his family support him and reassure him that the nightmare was over. Kellin had to be going insane trapped in his mother’s house, trapped in a bedroom that wasn’t even his anymore, trapped in silence. 

“So what even happened?” Mike’s father interrupted, cutting short an argument between his wife and Brad. “I want to know what I’m dealing with—I want to know what I’m expected to be bringing into my house.”

“I told her on the phone—”

“I know what you told her on the phone. I want to hear it from him. I want to hear it from the man who barged into my house and terrorized my family—I want to know his side of the story.” Mike’s father hated Brad probably as much as Kellin did after how he’d acted when he’d come to take Kellin home. He seemed to sense that there was more to the story than Kellin “copping an attitude” and throwing a fit and he wanted to bully Brad into confessing what really happened.

Mike was eager to hear the story as well, even though he was certain he’d hear it from Kellin himself—through Vic’s thin bedroom walls. 

“What else is there to say? He was in one of his moods again and started running his mouth to my wife—”

“To his _mother,”_ Mike’s mother cut in. 

“Yeah, whatever. He was running his mouth and she asked him to stop and, when he didn’t, I told him to shut it. So he starts throwing a tantrum and I smacked him to get him to knock it off. It’s the only thing that works with that boy.”

Mike could envision his mother’s face before she even spoke. She was so protective of both him and Vic… If someone slapped one of _her_ sons, that man would end up in the city morgue and she’d be in prison no matter how small she was. 

“I don’t believe this! He’s your _son!_ You’re just going to sit around and watch someone manhandle your child?”

“He and Brad just don’t see eye to eye—this happens all the time.”

“All the time!? Your son was kidnapped. He was _abused!_ How can you just sit there and watch him beat your child?”

“Okay, no one got _beaten._ I smacked his mouth so he would shut it.”

“That’s not _all_ you did,” Kellin’s mother grumbled. 

“I did what I had to to get that kid to calm down and stop trying to attack me!”

“He wasn’t _attacking_ you, Brad. He was having a panic attack. I told you if you let him go he’d be fine—”

“Yeah, but you weren’t the one getting your face clawed at every time you let go of one of his hands. What did you want me to do? Let him rip me apart?”

“He was _scared._ You were scaring him!”

“Look, I just want him out of this house. All he talks about is Vic. Maybe if they’re together he’ll stop acting like such a little shit.”

“Excuse me? That’s my son! Don’t you _ever_ talk about him like that!” She didn’t stick up for him when he was getting slapped around, but apparently name calling was where she drew the line. Mike rolled his eyes as he stepped back from the doorway as the argument between husband and wife escalated. 

Kellin appeared to have grabbed all of his things and put them in those plastic grocery bags he’d had piled around him outside on the steps. It wasn’t much… Compared to what Vic had come to—his bedroom kept as an untouched time capsule—Kellin had come home to a nightmare. There was no way all he’d ever owned fit in those plastic bags. His mother had thrown out his stuff to make room for her baby. It was no wonder Kellin was clinging to Vic so much. Vic was all he had left.


	16. Chapter 16

Vic cried the first time he saw the bruises. They were massive, purple finger marks which wrapped all the way around Kellin’s wrists. They were exact replicas of the bruises Eddie used to leave on both of them when he’d get rough. Vic couldn’t even imagine how scared Kellin had to have been, caught in between a flashback and reality with a domineering man overtop him in both awful states. 

He’d tried so hard to keep his composure, knowing that getting emotional would just further upset Kellin, but the marks triggered him so badly and there was nothing he could do. His heart hurt for Kellin and those awful bruises just reminded him so much of what he’d endured with Eddie. He didn’t want Kellin to remember those awful things and he certainly didn’t want Kellin to be living through those same tortures over again—in his own home, too!

Vic just couldn’t stand it. No matter how much he held Kellin or kissed his bruises, the frantic, pained feeling never left him. He couldn’t let Kellin out of his sight after they got home—not for anything. He followed him from room to room, barely able to stay seated when Kellin would get up from the bed or the couch to use the restroom. Mike told him he needed to give Kellin space and warned him that he was tipping off their parents to his and Kellin’s “relationship.” Vic may have cared about their secrecy at the start, but after seeing those bruises it really didn’t matter to him anymore.

Kellin had been hurt again. He’d been neglected, isolated, and abused. He needed all the love and support Vic could offer. As soon as Kellin said he was tired and wanted to go to bed, Vic followed after him and offered up one of his sleeping pills to make sure Kellin would be able to sleep through the night. Kellin refused at first, but Vic was insistent and resolved to break the pill in half. It wouldn’t be as strong of a dose but it would help him calm down enough to rest. 

His mother had come into his room at that point and said she had cleared off the couch and gathered some blankets and a pillow for Kellin. Vic couldn’t look at her when he said he’d rather Kellin stay with him like the last time he’d slept over. Kellin, who had already taken his half of the sleeping pill, didn’t join the conversation at all. He merely laid there and watched them talk, looking on the verge of tears the whole time. 

“Do you want me to keep the light on?” Vic asked after his mother had left the room. Kellin shook his head, then shifted around as he started to undress and change into the pajamas Vic gave him. Vic tried not to watch him, but he couldn’t help himself. He was looking for more bruises and was thankful when he didn’t see any more. Kellin insisted that Brad had been trying to rape him when the man pinned him down on the couch and (though Vic was sure that fear was a result of the flashback rather than fact) he was relieved to see no evidence of any prior assaults. He couldn’t stand to see bruises on Kellin’s wrists; Vic didn’t know what he’d do with himself if there was a bruise or cut anywhere below his waist. 

“Why are you watching me?” Kellin asked, his voice slow and groggy. 

“I… I’m sorry. I was just checking for… Sorry.” Vic looked away and bowed his head. He hoped Kellin wouldn’t think he was trying to initiate anything, but felt Kellin had to understand him. They knew each other… They knew each other so well. Kellin had to know Vic would never, ever try to take advantage of him or make him uncomfortable on purpose. 

“He only ever hits me on the head,” Kellin mumbled. “Except for today… I don’t know what happened, Vic. I was starting to feel sick and I started crying—and the next think I know, he’s on top of me yelling. His knee was between my legs and everything. Just like Eddie used to do to us when he was mad. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” Vic said, trying hard to push back the memories which rushed him all at once. 

“My mom just stood there. She didn’t try to pull him off. She—She just…watched him hurt me.”

“Well no one here is ever going to hurt you,” Vic said, clipping off the light once both of them were changed. “If they try, they’ll have to go through me,” he added as he crawled onto the bed next to Kellin. 

Kellin immediately snuggled closer to him and pressed his head against Vic’s chest. 

“I missed you,” Kellin mumbled. 

_“Missed_ doesn’t even describe it,” Vic said, smiling as he squeezed Kellin tight. He felt complete again, just as he had the night Kellin had come only to visit—only now their arrangement was permanent. Kellin was staying with him. They could hold each other all night, every night. During the day, Vic would get to help Kellin with his school work and might even be able to take Kellin with him to his counseling appointments. The boy needed therapy, especially after the trauma he faced after returning home.

Vic would’ve _died_ had he come home to find all of his things gone. He would’ve been so heartbroken to know he’d been given up on—though he would understand that six years was a long time to wait. Kellin’s mother hadn’t even waited a year yet she’d already given him up for dead and barely seemed grateful to have him home. To her, Kellin’s return was an inconvenience. 

That wasn’t what Kellin deserved to come home to—it wasn’t what he needed to get better. He needed all the love he could get and more. Vic just hoped he would be enough. His family was kind and loving, but Kellin was afraid of them. Vic was the only person he trusted… Vic _needed_ to be enough to make Kellin start to feel better. 

That was his last thought before falling into a hazy, restless sleep.

( ) ( ) ( )

The first two weeks that Kellin stayed in their house were torture for everyone—except the happy couple. Mike was woken up again and again to the sounds of Kellin having panic attacks and trying to wake Vic who was too doped up on sleeping pills to offer him any assistance beyond sleepy mumbles. And on those nights when Vic _couldn’t_ wake up, Kellin wandered off into the living room and watched television with the volume so high it woke up everyone who wasn’t on medication. No matter how many times Mike’s father told Kellin to turn it down, the volume always crept higher and higher until it was back where it had been—keeping Kellin’s demons at bay until the sun came up and he finally felt secure enough to sleep. 

Vic had tried giving Kellin half of his nightly sleeping pill, but even though the halved dosage worked on Kellin, it caused Vic to have even worse waking nightmares than he did before he was medicated. Kellin finally stopped accepting the halved pill after Vic clawed him in the face one night, mistaking him for one of Eddie’s friends while trapped in a nightmare about his last night in his kidnapper’s house. 

Kellin ended up sleeping on the couch, Vic ended up sleeping in Mike’s bed while Mike sat on his floor and played videogames until he had to go to work the next morning. Incidentally, the next morning was also when their father found out that there might be more between his son and Kellin than an affectionate friendship. Eight or nine days had passed since Kellin moved in and Vic’s cover had started slipping. That morning after his terrible dream, Vic had probably kissed the bloody scratch on Kellin’s cheek three or four times in front of their parents. He was more worried about Kellin being upset with him than his parents’ opinions of him, and Kellin certainly didn’t mind the extra attention.

After seeing the kisses, their father requested Kellin spend his nights on the couch—no matter how much Vic wanted Kellin in bed with him. His demand worked for maybe a night or two, but then Kellin would just get up and crawl into bed beside Vic. Mike could hear them talking through his bedroom wall—could hear Vic’s sleepy, drugged-up nonsense sentences as he cooed at his “boyfriend.” 

At first, their talking would wake Mike up and keep him awake—agitating him as he knew he wasn’t going to be rested enough for work—but after a week, he started to find comfort in it. Hearing his brother mumbling to Kellin was a lot better than hearing Vic crying or trying to scream in his sleep. And on the nights that he still had nightmares, all he seemed to need in order to calm down was to have Kellin mumble at him for a little while or sing a line or two of a quiet song. 

Kellin seemed happy to offer Vic comfort, and Vic—when he could be woken up—was more than happy to take care of Kellin if he had nightmares. They had each other, so the pressure was off Mike and their parents to keep Vic calm. They never knew what to say to him to calm him down—but Kellin did. Kellin could read Vic like an open book and knew before anyone else if he was becoming distressed or anxious and knew how to counter it. Sometimes a gentle embrace was all he needed to feel secure, other time it was a kiss on the shoulder. 

Even when their father started trying to drive more of a wedge between them, desperate to stop his _straight_ son from continuing his “shameful” relationship with Kellin, the two remained close. They were in love and nothing was going to change that. There was nothing anyone could do to stop them—no matter how much Mike wished there were…

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his supposedly straight brother kissing a boy five years his junior—he just wished he didn’t have to watch it. On a typical night, Vic would discourage Kellin from kissing him around his father—reluctant to call attention to himself or their relationship—but after he’d had two shots of tequila and between three or four beers, Vic hardly seemed aware that anyone else was in the room with him besides Kellin. 

They were all drinking—well, all of them except Kellin who was underage and sulking about it. Even their mother had taken a shot of tequila even though she didn’t care for it at all, just to join in the festivities. She’d made a large dinner that had somehow turned into a makeshift party when Mike broke out the liquor. Vic had gotten excited, even though his boyfriend was pouting, and kept up an effort to outdrink Mike until their mother cautioned him to slow down or she’d put away the drinks. 

Already loosened up after taking the two shots, Vic just became more and more comfortable as he knocked back the bottles of beer as they all watched an overrated action movie on cable TV. He got his arms around Kellin about halfway through the film and kept pulling him closer and closer until he was absolutely wasted and kissing the back of Kellin’s neck.

“Kells?—Aw, don’t ignore me. Don’t ignore me! Kells?” Vic kept whining at him, then laughing, then kissing him. All the while Kellin sat there in silence and pouted, pretending he didn’t like the attention. “Kells—come on.”

“I’m watching the movie,” Kellin snapped.

“Well watch me instead,” Vic said before laughing, probably realizing how moronic he sounded—or so Mike imagined. It was embarrassing watching his brother act like such a fool, but he imagined that after another beer he would be as wasted as Vic and none of it would matter. 

“Watch you? Watch you what—get drunk?” Kellin asked, shifting around in Vic’s lap—trying to get up though Vic wouldn’t let go of him. Mike almost expected the exchange to turn into an actual struggle, especially considering how bad Kellin’s PTSD flared up when he felt cornered or pinned, but Vic let go the instant Kellin made a noise of fear. As soon as Kellin stood up, Vic copied and pressed a poorly directed kiss onto the boy’s temple. 

“Where are you going?” Their father asked as Vic started to move away from the couch.

“To throw my bottle away,” Vic said, turning to face his father and almost falling down as he did so. The disorientation just made him giggle, especially when Kellin put a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. 

“It’s not even empty,” Mike said, looking at the bottle. “If you’re throwing it out, give it to me.”

“I’m going to finish it first,” Vic said, turning his focus to Mike before stumbling toward the kitchen with Kellin at his side. 

“You should let me have it,” Kellin mumbled, trying to get the bottle from Vic’s hand.

“No!” Their mother said, her voice stern but not cruel. “You’re too young. It’s against the law. Don’t you give him any.”

“Okay,” Vic said, his voice a heavy, drawn out sigh. Their parents seemed content to believe that Vic would listen to them and fixed their attention back on the television. Mike, honestly more interested in seeing what became of the left of beer, turned around to peer over the back of the couch at the kitchen. 

“Just let me try some,” Kellin was mumbling, pressing himself up against Vic who was backed, though unthreatened, against the counter. “Eddie always did.”

“I can’t,” Vic said, imitating Kellin’s tone of voice. 

“Please?” Kellin asked, leaning in even closer and making as if to steal a kiss. 

Vic turned his face away and lifted the bottle of beer in order to take a drink. Kellin pulled back with a heavy sigh, but was lured close again when Vic made to kiss him. 

Mike looked away, not wanting watch his brother make out with the spoiled brat, and took a drink from his own beer. However, as soon as the bottle touched his lips, he heard a loud spatter and Kellin let out an indignant cry. 

“You’re disgusting! That’s gross!”

Mike cringed before looking over the couch again, his parents turning to do the same. He expected to see vomit, even though he hadn’t heard Vic gagging, but instead it was Kellin who was spitting on the floor.”

“What? You said you wanted to taste it,” Vic said, laughing drunkenly.

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to spit it in my mouth!”

“Vic!” their mother called, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the mouthful of beer and spit on her kitchen floor. “Clean that up!”

Vic acted as though he didn’t hear her and kept laughing at Kellin who was fuming. 

“You know what!?” He snapped, glaring at Vic who seemed completely unaware of how angry his boyfriend appeared to be getting. 

Mike was about to speak up and intervene, not about to let the kid bully Vic even if his brother had started it. They’d both regret it if they really got to fighting, but Mike quickly became aware that Vic understood Kellin’s moods better than anyone else. If he was laughing at Kellin’s rage, it meant he saw right through it. 

“What?” Vic asked, trying to bite back a smile. 

Kellin lunged for him, and the next moment he had Vic’s hat in his hand and Vic was trying to get it back.

“No! No—I’ll teach you to spit in my _mouth!”_

“Boys. Knock it off,” their father called, watching the two of them closely. 

“Kellin! Give me my hat,” Vic said, his words starting to slur a little bit which made him laugh harder. He reached for his hat a few more times before seeming to give up and wrapping his arms around Kellin instead, holding him in a tight embrace. He started kissing Kellin’s neck which seemed to be _exactly_ what the boy had been pushing toward because his expression immediately went from frustrated to pleased. 

“Boys—I mean it. Clean up the floor,” their father pressed, turning away and shaking his head in frustration. His wife put her hand on his knee and passed him a sympathetic glance. 

“I-I have to get a new hat,” Vic stammered, giggling in between his words as he unwound his arms from Kellin and left the kitchen. 

“Clean up the floor!” Their father called, his voice actually becoming stern. It was a tone he very seldom used with Vic since it caused him to immediately begin to cower, but this time it wasn’t even enough to get Vic to listen. 

“Gotta find another hat!” He answered, voice full of humor as he made his way to the hallway which led to his room. “If you’re going to steal my hat, I’ll just get more,” he added, returning to the mouth of the hallway when he realized Kellin wasn’t following him. He leaned against the wall and smiled at Kellin who had gotten a paper towel to mop up the beer he’d spit on the floor. “Did you hear me?” He pressed.

“Mhm. I heard you,” Kellin said, his tone becoming a little deeper… Seductive.

“Oh, _God,”_ Mike said, shaking his head and immediately turning back around in his seat on the couch. He did _not_ want to be hearing this. He did _not_ want to think about what was inevitably going to happen when Kellin followed Vic back to his bedroom. 

He kept waiting for his father to say something—order Kellin to stay in the room with them or tell Vic to forget about grabbing another hat—but once the two had disappeared down the hall together, he just turned up the volume on the television. He didn’t have the heart to yell, really _yell,_ at either of them, and nothing short of screaming seemed like it would get through Vic’s drunken haze. Kellin was used to being yelled at and bossed around by Brad, so being reprimanded evoked no shame or obedience at all. If he had Vic’s attention, nothing was going to discourage him. 

Unless someone went back into that bedroom and dragged one of them back into the living room, there was nothing that could stop them. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Kellin knew Vic was drunk—really, really drunk—and that he probably shouldn’t let this go too far considering the man wasn’t in his right mind. However, Vic’s mouth felt so good on his neck and Kellin wasn’t about to push him away. Vic kept humming and moaning all the while rubbing and squeezing Kellin’s hips. He was pulling him slowly closer and closer to the bed, and Kellin moved wherever Vic guided him. 

He’d been hoping a night like this might happen, just to prove their relationship was the same as it had been under Eddie’s careful watch. For the first few nights in the home, Kellin was afraid he’d trigger Vic into a flashback if he touched him at all. Even then, it proved a challenge to get Vic to touch him either. Vic was nervous about what his parents would think or what Mike could hear through the walls.

Tonight, however, Vic was too drunk to be cautious. Kellin knew Vic’s defenses had completely dropped from the moment Vic pulled him into his lap. Kellin could feel it when the position started to get Vic excited and immediately responded by pushing back against him—sometimes wiggling around just to get Vic going even more. All his efforts were now paying off because they were alone together and no one had followed after them.

They were completely alone and Vic _couldn’t_ keep his hands to himself. 

Kellin sat down on the bed once Vic had backed him against it and leaned up to get a kiss on the mouth. He had to wait a moment as Vic caught his breath, but as soon as their lips were touching, Vic was climbing over top him on the mattress. 

“I love you,” Kellin said, trying to get Vic to slow down just a little. He didn’t want to stop, but even having Vic pinning him down made his heart start to race with fear. 

Vic just laughed at him and started kissing his cheeks, then his forehead and his lips again. 

“Vic, you’re really drunk,” Kellin said, turning his face away.

“I know,” Vic drawled, kissing Kellin’s neck once again—his hands and knees on either side of Kellin’s body.

“I don’t like this,” Kellin said, trying to keep his breaths even as he stared at Vic’s left hand where it pressed into the mattress close to his head.

“Hm?” The small noise still managed to harbor a significant amount of hurt, and Vic pulled back completely to sit to one side of Kellin’s body. Immediately, Kellin was flooded with relief. He _knew_ Vic wouldn’t hurt him, but even so his body had started to shake. “I-I thought…when you stole my hat…” Vic looked so confused and Kellin felt sorry for him. He was too drunk to understand why Kellin had shied away from him.

Kellin sat up and crawled over to Vic, trying to calm his nerves as he made himself go in for another kiss. He managed to get Vic to lay back against the pillows at the head of the bed and kissed him, sucking his bottom lip until Vic started to reciprocate again. Vic kept moaning and reached out to wrap his arms around Kellin’s waist, pulling him closer until Kellin was straddling his hips. 

It wasn’t much longer before Kellin had pulled off his t-shirt and had removed Vic’s for him. Everything started moving faster and faster after that. Vic kept running his palms over Kellin’s sides, pausing every time his hands reached the peaks of his hips. Even drunk, Vic never held him or squeezed him hard enough to cause pain. He was always so, so gentle. 

Vic smiled when Kellin pulled back from him to breathe, looking at him in admiration. That look was enough to dispel the demons that were starting to scream in the back of Kellin’s head. What if Vic didn’t really want him? What if he was just confused or felt he was obligated to keep Kellin around? 

That look, however, that hazy, love-drunk look was too genuine to be the product of guilt. 

“Kellin?” Vic called, speaking slowly as he watched Kellin finish getting undressed.

“What?” Kellin asked, smiling as he shimmied out of his skinny jeans. 

“Kellin,” Vic repeated, reaching out to touch Kellin’s chest. 

“What? See something you like?” Kellin asked before laughing and leaning down to peck Vic on the lips before tossing his jeans aside and grabbing both of Vic’s hands. He guided them to the hem of his boxer briefs, trying to get Vic to take the lead. 

Vic let out a nervous laugh and looked away, seemingly content to just hold Kellin’s hips.

“So—you’ve got me here. What are you going to do with me?” Kellin asked, trying his best to look and sound seductive. 

“I think…I’m going to kiss you,” Vic said, before laughing again—his face turning bright red. “But you’re gonna have to help me take off my pants.”

“Why is that?” Kellin asked, unable to stifle a laugh. 

“I can’t feel my hands,” Vic whispered, as if he were confessing a secret, and leaned forward—his forehead pressed against Kellin’s neck. 

“Maybe… Maybe we should wait,” Kellin said, feeling a little disappointed. Vic was obviously out of his mind. It was taking advantage of him if he kept pushing.

“No!” Vic called, pushing himself back from Kellin’s chest and grabbing Kellin’s face. It startled Kellin at first, but the touch was so gentle that the fear was readily replaced with confusion. “No—no, no. I’ll be fine. I promise—I’ll be fine.” 

As if to prove his point, Vic sat up from the pillows and moved them so Kellin was laying beside him on the bed. They kissed a while longer, then Vic slowly slid his supposedly numb hand down the front of Kellin’s underwear. Kellin gave a small gasp of pleasure in between kisses as Vic started stroking him. The pleasure was immediate and Kellin couldn’t help the moans which followed as their mouths worked together. 

He kept wishing he could feel Vic’s tongue somewhere better than where it was, sliding against his own. He imagined the thumb Vic kept rubbing against the slit of his cock was the tip of his tongue, wished he could feel the wet heat of Vic’s mouth envelop him. Kellin wouldn’t dare ask for it though. Vic knew what his limits were and Kellin didn’t want to push them. If he was ready, he’d initiate it—Kellin hoped. He would just have to be patient. 

When Kellin finally managed to get his hand down Vic’s pants, Vic’s appreciative noises grew louder and louder. Kellin knew they were probably being overheard by the family in the living room, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Vic was moaning his name and Kellin wasn’t about to tell him to stop. 

In fact…

When Kellin pulled away, Vic let out a pained noise and stared at him with fear. He started to ask if he’d done something wrong, but his words were lost when Kellin kissed him for the last time on the lips before yanking down the front of his baggy jeans in order to get his lips around Vic’s cock. 

Vic seemed disoriented a moment, but then started patting the top of Kellin’s head. The patting was odd to say the least, but Kellin preferred it over the way Eddie used to pull his hair and choke him. No matter what Vic did to him, it was never rough or cruel or selfish. Even when he started bucking his hips, trying to fit more of his length into Kellin’s mouth, he was never as terrible as Eddie. He was just…needy. 

Kellin pulled back to suckle the tip, swirling his tongue around the slit to collect the precum leaking out. The whole time he kept his eyes fixed on Vic’s face, watching the way he chewed his lips and furrowed his brow. He looked so perfect. He wasn’t scared or hurting or suffering. He was being taken care of and he knew it. Vic trusted him. Vic wanted him. There was no one around forcing them to be together. They were alone together—just them—in their own little world. 

Kellin waited until Vic opened his eyes again before taking all of him into his mouth that he could. He got Vic to moan for him and beg for him—all the things Eddie commanded of him, Vic offered for free. 

It took longer than Kellin cared for considering how much alcohol Vic had coursing through his veins, but Kellin refused to let his fatigue show. By the time Vic finally came, Kellin’s jaw was aching unbelievably as he swallowed every drop. 

When he was done, he crawled up to lay on Vic’s chest, trying to ignore the pressure between his legs. Vic was already starting to pass out, barely able to do more than hug Kellin close and kiss his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

“I love you,” he managed in between heavy breaths. “I love you—I do.”

“I love you too,” Kellin said, clearing his throat even though it didn’t help with how wrecked his voice was. “Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked. He knew he couldn’t ask Vic to do anything for him, but part of him—a selfish part—wanted to beg. 

“No,” Vic said, smiling. “I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Right—you’re passing out on me,” Kellin said, kissing Vic’s cheek and neck. He really, really wanted his boyfriend to stay awake just long enough to return the favor, but realized it wasn’t possible. He had to give up on that idea and just hope that maybe the next night he could get Vic to be in the mood again.

“I’m sorry,” Vic murmured, nuzzling Kellin’s cheek before rolling onto his side with a heavy moan. “My head’s spinning.”

“Want me to get you some water?” Kellin asked, squirming around until he managed to escape Vic’s grasp. 

“No!—No you can’t leave,” Vic said, his voice a childish whine as he waved his arms in Kellin’s direction, trying to pull him back down beside him. 

“I’m getting you water. It’ll make the spinning stop,” Kellin said, successfully avoiding Vic’s grasping hands. He stood from the bed and got dressed, then grabbed the empty water glass which sat beside Vic’s prescription bottles on the night stand. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he made his way to the bedroom door. Vic rolled over on the bed to watch him go, but didn’t protest anymore. 

It was a struggle to get the water glass to fit under the faucet in the bathroom sink, but he was too embarrassed to go into the kitchen to fill up the glass. He knew Vic’s family was aware of what had happened and he really didn’t want to face them without Vic at his side. After all, what if they thought he’d taken advantage of Vic? Or what if Mike got angry and tried to confront him about it? Kellin couldn’t stand up to Mike. Not in a million years. 

Kellin could only manage to get the glass filled halfway due to the angle he had to hold it under the low faucet, so he resolved to use the tap in the bathtub instead. He hated how loud the bathtub faucet was when it ran. He wished he and Vic could just be _alone_ together—no one in the next room listening in or passing judgment. 

When he got back to the bedroom, Vic was sitting up in the bed. He accepted the glass of water readily and drank the whole thing without ever pausing to take a breath. 

“Kells?” Vic said, panting a little as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Hm?”

Instead of answering him, Vic just looked at him and laughed. His eyes were sparkling even through the haze of liquor and sleepiness. Maybe it was the alcohol keeping Vic tongue tied and giddy, but it was still the happiest Kellin had ever seen him.

( ) ( ) ( )

Six months. Kellin had been living with him for six whole months. Vic still couldn’t believe it, even though he woke up to Kellin’s face pretty much every day. He knew that it was hard on his family at first, but they couldn’t deny the progress Vic made with Kellin’s support. Just one month of Kellin staying with them, Vic was able to handle it when more people came to visit. He was finally able to see Tony face-to-face for the first time since he’d been taken. 

Kellin actually seemed to get along with Tony as well. Kellin didn’t like being isolated and lacked the nervousness Vic had about meeting strangers. He was timid at first, but as soon as he realized no one was going to touch him or hurt him, he liked getting attention from someone new. He could talk music with Tony and Jaime, and even started to write song lyrics again. His renewed passion and confidence encourage Vic to do the same. 

He started practicing his guitar again, then tried teaching Kellin to play. Kellin, however, didn’t seem that interested. More than anything, he just wanted to watch Vic play and write lyrics for the melodies he composed. Vic loved nothing more than the time they could spend together in the garage—their makeshift practice studio where Mike kept his drums and Vic kept his amps. He would play his guitar, Kellin would practice his singing, and no one would bother them. 

Sometimes Tony and Jaime would come over to practice with Mike, and Vic would join them. At first he’d just sit and listen—Kellin at his side, of course—then he started playing guitar with them again, just like before. For months he was too nervous to sing, especially since he knew that his role as vocals in their makeshift band had been taken over by someone else—someone he’d yet to meet. But then, after weeks of listening to Kellin beg to hear him sing, Vic broke down and complied. 

For the first time in close to seven years, he’d performed a song with his old band. It was nerve-wracking and, in some ways, humiliating, but it felt like a missing piece was finally falling back into place. His old lyrics felt so foreign on his tongue, even though he remembered writing most of the words. He didn’t connect with them the way he used to, and he knew that if he was to keep singing with his old band, he definitely had to write something new. 

Inspiration, however, wouldn’t be hard to find. Vic realized that when he noticed the way Kellin watched him when he sang. 

He knew his friends were skeptical about his relationship with Kellin. After a few visits to the house, Tony even worked up the nerve to ask about the two of them. He wasn’t rude or repulsed, just confused. And Vic really couldn’t blame him. Before Eddie had taken him, Vic only ever had eyes for pretty girls. 

Even now, especially after a few months home, he couldn’t help but recognize how attractive and alluring women could be. A girl in the grocery store smiled at him and he’d had to keep his head down the rest of the shopping trip so Kellin wouldn’t notice how flustered a simple glance could make him. 

It didn’t matter though. He had Kellin and he wanted Kellin. Women were great—they were beautiful and elegant, and had all the right curves in all the right places—but they weren’t Kellin. 

Kellin understood him. Kellin loved him. Vic wasn’t about to take that for granted. He doubted a woman would ever want to hear him whine about what Eddie had put him through, but Kellin listened intently and offered empathy. They liked all the same things and shared the same passions for music and art. 

He was everything Vic wanted in a best friend and, even if he wasn’t gorgeous in the ways that women were, he was still attractive. He had those big blue eyes and a smile that could make Vic feel weak in the knees. What more could he want from a romantic partner? 

That was how Vic explained it whenever someone would ask, anyway. Women were great, but there wasn’t one good enough to replace Kellin. 

“You’re staring at me again.”

The words snapped Vic out of his thoughts, causing his fingers to still on the strings of his acoustic guitar. He’d been working on the melody for a new song while Kellin clicked through his online classes on Vic’s laptop. 

“Why are you staring at me?” Kellin asked, laughing as he closed the laptop and set it aside on the bed. 

“I…I was making sure you were doing your homework and not messing around on Facebook again,” Vic said, knowing his tone was anything but convincing. 

“Right,” Kellin said. “How’s the song coming?”

“Um… Good. I think… I don’t know.” Vic looked down at his guitar and strummed the strings a few more times before he realized his concentration had been irreparably broken. “How was homework?”

“Boring. It’s homework,” Kellin said, scooting closer to where Vic sat at the foot of the bed. He pressed a kiss onto Vic’s cheek, then laid down with his head in Vic’s lap. 

Vic smiled down at him and started smoothing his hair. It had become so shiny since Kellin had started living with him. He was healthier than he’d ever been—probably even more so than when he’d lived with his mother before Eddie got involved. His skin was no longer dull; the dark circles had disappeared from under his eyes. Even his scars were starting to fade, even though they’d never vanish completely. 

“You’re staring at me,” Kellin repeated in a sing-song tone. 

“I can’t help it,” Vic said, laughing a little as he continued to run his fingers through Kellin’s soft hair. 

“Can’t help it, huh?” Kellin reached for Vic’s free hand and brought it to his chest, holding it over his heart after pressing a quick kiss onto Vic’s knuckles. 

“No… I was just thinking.”

“Thinking? Oh no. I hate it when you start thinking,” Kellin said, smiling the whole time. 

“Nothing bad. Just…thinking about you.”

“You’re always thinking about me,” Kellin said as he sat up. He kissed Vic on the lips, then crawled back over to the head of the bed—making a point to wiggle his hips a bit when he noticed Vic watching him. 

Vic readily accepted the invitation and climbed over top of him, wrapping an arm around Kellin’s waist in order to pull the boy’s hips back against his own. He nuzzled Kellin’s neck a moment, taking in his scent with an appreciative hum before releasing his hold. He knew he couldn’t keep Kellin trapped against his body for more than a few seconds at a time, but he appreciated the moments he could get. 

As soon as Kellin was free, he rolled over onto his back and reached up to get his arms around Vic’s shoulders. They kissed for a while, their mouths slowly working together until Kellin started moaning. He lifted his hips from the bed in order to press himself up against Vic, groaning softly until Vic started grinding down against him. 

Vic _lived_ for moments like this. 

It didn’t last long. It never did. Once they were undressed—once Kellin finally let Vic inside—everything just happened so fast. The first few times, Vic had been more than self-conscious about it, but Kellin never complained. As long as he was satisfied in the end, he didn’t seem to care how long it lasted. 

Maybe it was better that way considering the slightest trigger could throw Kellin into a panic attack when someone was over top of him. 

Kellin laid himself down on Vic’s chest after it was over, breathing heavily while Vic petted his hair. Every now and then Kellin would kiss Vic’s neck or chin, and Vic would respond by kissing the top of his head. It was important they stayed close afterwards, maybe more so for Vic than Kellin. 

He worried that Kellin would think he’d been taken advantage of or used. Kellin was still so young and the last thing Vic wanted was to be part of what caused the boy pain if, in the future, they didn’t work out. He didn’t want Kellin to look back and think of him as a manipulator, someone who preyed on him and used him for sex like Eddie. If something went wrong and Kellin decided he deserved someone better than a nervous wreck who lived out of a pill bottle, Vic didn’t want Kellin to remember him with hatred. 

Vic believed that if he proved to Kellin that he was loved and cherished, he could keep them together no matter what. He wanted to prove that he was different from Eddie. He was so afraid he’d make a mistake—just one wrong move—and make himself look like Eddie in Kellin’s eyes. 

Eddie never held them or kissed them—not in a way that wasn’t forceful at least. Eddie never whispered to Kellin that he was perfect or snuggled with him after sex. 

“So…I’ve been talking to your dad,” Kellin said, rather suddenly, before pressing another kiss to Vic’s neck.

“My dad? Why?” 

“He told me I could work with him on that new contract he got. He said he’d pay me.” Kellin shifted around until he was laying on his stomach at Vic’s side, propped up on his elbows.

“You don’t need to be working. You have to focus on your classes,” Vic said. He didn’t like the idea at all. Painting houses was awful work—hard work. He’d rather Kellin stayed at home where he was safe… But Kellin wasn’t like Vic. He wasn’t afraid to go outside the way Vic was. He was so much stronger. 

“I was thinking we could work together. I mean…where else can I make money and be with you all the time, right?” 

“It’s hard work, though. You could get hurt. It’d kill me if something happened to you.” Vic tried to pull Kellin back onto his chest again, but the boy resisted and ended up sitting himself up against the headboard. 

“That’s why you have to come with me—so you can do all the work while I get paid to stand in the corner where I’m safe,” Kellin said, grinning at him. 

“Why do you need to get paid? We’ve got money. If you need something—”

“I have to get a job somewhere. I’m not going to mooch off your parents for the rest of my life. At least your dad will know why I’m crazy if I start freaking out. No one else is going to put up with that. And besides, I want to get you something nice for your birthday next year instead of just tacking my name on something your mom bought.”

“You don’t have to get me anything—ever. I’m lucky just to have you,” Vic said.

“Shut up,” Kellin said, rolling his eyes and turning his face away when he started blushing. He grabbed the blankets and pulled them up to his chest, stealing the covers away from Vic’s back—exposing him to the cold. 

“Hey!” Vic tried to grab the blankets back, but as soon as Kellin saw the opportunity to start a game of keep away, he made a show of keeping the whole of the blanket to himself. In his efforts to get it back, Vic succeeded in getting Kellin to lay on his chest again—the only position where he could keep the boy safe and caged in his arms.

He wasn’t ready to let go yet. 

Soon, maybe, but certainly not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and supporting this side project of mine! I had a lot of fun writing it and I'm glad others were able to enjoy it, too! :) [Though I don't think anyone would've enjoyed it had I kept up my original idea for the ending...in which Vic would have died and Kellin would've ended up living with his family in an attempt to be closer to him, even though he'd passed. Yeah... No one wanted to see that happen.] I would love to keep writing more of this plot (maybe exploring what happens with Neil and Trent 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Kellic before, but I wanted to try out this plot and thought it might be fun to venture out of my usual comfort zone. Please feel free to leave any comments/crits. below! I'd really love some feedback! Thanks for reading!


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